UC-NRLF 


E.  H.  PIERCE, 
OLD  BOOK  SHOP 


THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

AND   OTHER  MISCELLANIES 


THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF 

INVERNESS 

A    TALE 
AND    OTHEE    MISCELLANIES 


BY 

WILLIAM   BLACK 


NEW  AND  REVISED  EDITION 


NEW    YORK 

HARPER    &    BROTHERS,    FRANKLIN    SQUARE 
1893 


LONDON: 
PRINTED  BY   WILLIAM   CLOWES   AND   SONS.    LIMITED, 

.-TAMFOUD  STIIKET   AND   CHARING   CROSS. 


UJS 


CONTENTS. 


THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS. 

CHAPT.  PAGE 

I.  AT  FASSLIB  FARM 3 

II.  BY  THE  SHORE                     ....  22 

III.  A  CONSPIRACY           *  ,                 ...  42 

IY.  THE  WORKING  OF  THE  CHARM      .         .        .62 

Y.  THE  BRIDE'S  DOWRY  .  83 


RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER. 

(Reprinted  chiefly  from  the  Novel  entitled  «  White  Heather.') 

" ROSES  WHITE,  ROSES  RED"      .         .         .        .107 
"  BEN  LOYAL  SPAKE  TO  BEN  CLEBRIG  "        .         .     108 

"0  WILT  THOU  BE  MY  DEAR  LOVE "   .     .     .109 

"  BEN  CLEBRIG'S  A  BLAZE  OF  SPLENDOUR  "  .         .  110 

A  BALLAD         .                 Ill 

ADAM  o'  FINTRY         ......  113 

MUDAL  IN  JUNE 115 

BY  ISLAY'S  SHORES 117 

" MUDAL,  THAT  COMES  FROM  THE  LONELY  LOCH"  .  119 

"  0  GLASGOW  TOWN,  HOW  LITTLE  YOU  KNOW  "      .  120 

"  THE  CLOUDS  LAY  HEAVY  ON  CLEBRIG'S  CREST  "  .  121 

264020 


iv  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

"0  LASSES,  LASSES,  GANG  YOUR  WAYS"      .        .    122 

To  HIS  TERRIER 123 

A  LETTER 125 

ACROSS  THE  SEA 127 

"THROUGH  THE  LONG  SAD  CENTURIES"  .  .  12i) 
«*ALL  ON  A  FAIR  MAY  MORNING"  .  .  .131 
"  BY  MUDAL'S  RIVER  SHE  IDLY  STRAYED  "  .  .133 

A  FLOWER-AUCTION 135 

"  0  WHITE'S  THE  MOON  UPON  THE  LOCH  "  .  .  136 
"  SMALL  BIRDS  IN  THE  CORN  "  .  .  .  .138 
"0  GLASGOW  LASSES  ARE  FAIR  ENOUGH"  .  .  139 

REEL-SONG .141 

ANOTHER  GLASS  BEFORE  WE  GQ  .  .  .  .142 
"KING  DEATH  CAME  STRIDING  ALONG  THE  ROAD"  144 
SHOUTHER  TO  SHOUTHER  .....  146 

WINTER  SONG 148 

"THE  BLOSSOM  WAS  WHITE  ON  THE  BLACKTHORN 

TREE"          .• 150 

A  MESSAGE        .  ....     151 

"0  WHAT'S  THE  SWEETEST  THING  THERE  is"  .  152 
THE  WITCH-MAIDENS  153 


THE  SUPERNATURAL  EXPERIENCES  OF 

PATSY  CONG  159 


AN  APRIL  DAY  ON  THE  OYKEL  .         .         .185 


A  DAY'S  STALKING 201 


THE 

WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS. 


- 


THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS. 


CHAPTEE  I. 

AT  FASSLIE   FARM. 

DEEP  and  heavy  the  long-swelling  surge  of  the 
North  Sea  thundered  along  the  Cromarty 
shores ;  and  high  and  shrill  above  that  reverbe- 
rating plunge  sang  and  whistled  and  shrieked  a 
strenuous  wind,  sweeping  inland  from  the  wide 
waste  of  waters  ;  but  nevertheless  there  was 
not  a  cloud  in  the  clear  night  sky ;  the  world 
was  filled  with  a  lambent  white  moonlight ;  and 
far  across  the  silver-touched  waves  there  was 
visible  the  dusky  outline  of  the  opposite  coast, 
by  Fort  George,  and  Nairn,  and  Findhorn,  and 
Burghead. 

In  a  small  and  dimly -lit  room  in  a  farm-house, 
built  high  over  that  wild  sea,  an  old — or,  rather, 
elderly — man  was  seated  in  front  of  a  massive 

B  2 


•:V 

4  ./      ;.'  /  -.'  OF  INVERNESS 

iron  chest,  the  top  of  which  he  was  carefully 
scraping  with  some  kind  of  iron  instrument. 
He  was  a  man  short  of  stature,  but  of  powerful 
build ;  his  face  hard  set  and  tanned  and  fur- 
rowed with  wind  and  sun  and  rain  ;  his  hair 
almost  white,  and  white  also  the  bushy  eye- 
brows set  over  a  pair  of  remarkably  penetrating 
gray  eyes.  This  man  was  Eobert  Graham,  the 
tenant  of  an  extensive  sheep  farm ;  and  the 
huge  iron  coffer  before  him,  from  which  he  was 
diligently  scraping  the  last  traces  of  whatever 
paint  might  still  be  visible,  had  been  at  one 
time  the  military  chest  of  the  garrison  at  Fort 
Augustus,  from  whence  it  had  been  allowed  to 
fall  into  private  hands  when  the  fort  was  dis- 
mantled. But  it  was  not  the  contents  of  this 
massive  chest  that  seemed  to  concern  the 
farmer ;  it  was  the  few  remaining  touches  of 
green  paint  here  and  there  ;  and  to  aid  him  in 
the  searching  removal  of  these  he  had  placed  a 
solitary  candle  beside  him,  though,  indeed,  as 
the  coffer  stood  in  the  window-recess,  there  was 
almost  enough  light  coming  in  from  the  moon- 
lit world  without  to  enable  him  to  prosecute 
his  task. 

Now  so  still  and  hushed  was  this  little  room 


A  T  PASS  LIE  FARM  5 

that,  in  spite  of  all  the  wild  roar  of  wind  and 
sea  outside,  the  scratching  of  the  iron  point  was 
quite  audible ;  and  not  only  that,  but  also 
certain  low  mutterings  with  which  from  time 
to  time  the  old  man  gave  expression  to  such 
fancies  as  crossed  his  brain.  But  these  were 
broken  and  detached,  for  sometimes  he  relapsed 
into  silence  ;  and  so  it  will  be  more  convenient 
to  put  them  down  here  consecutively,  and  in  as 
plain  language  as  possible. 

"  I  am  not  more  superstitious  than  most ; 
but  it's  better  to  be  on  the  safe  side.  The  earth 
is  the  Lord's  and  the  fulness  thereof;  but  He 
has  permitted  strange  things  to  be  in  the  world  ; 
and  maybe  they  have  grown  stronger  than  He 
intended,  and  can  do  more  harm  now.  It's 
better  to  be  friendly  with  both  sides ;  and  if 
there  was  a  Sith-bruth*  on  Fasslie,  it's  not  a 
man  or  boy  on  the  place  would  I  allow  to  cut 
a  twig  or  lift  a  stone  there.  It's  live  and  let 
live  ;  and  if  the  little  people  bide  in  these  knolls, 
it's  not  I  that  would  be  for  disturbing  them ; 
even  if  they  cannot  harm  a  man,  as  some  say, 
maybe  they  can  harm  a  sheep — ay,  or  a  score  of 

*  Sith-lruth,  a  fairies'  dwelling,  generally  a  rocky  mound, 
under  which  the  fairies  are  supposed  to  live. 


6  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

sheep.  .  .  .  And  were  there  no  Grahams,  now, 
among  the  soldiers  at  Fort  Augustus  that  they 
allowed  this  chest  to  be  painted  green  ?  Is 
there  a  Graham  alive  that  does  not  know  what 
colour  it  is  that  is  fatal  to  every  one  of  the 
name — ay,  when  it  is  even  a  common  story  that 
never  was  a  Graham  shot  in  battle  but  it  was 
found  the  bullet  had  gone  through  the  green 
check  of  the  tartan?  And  twice  and  three 
times  I  stopped  bidding  for  it, -until  I  said  to 
myself — what  has  been  put  on  can  be  taken  off; 
and  what  the  knife  will  not  finish,  the  turpen- 
tine will  finish  ;  and  where  can  the  ill-luck  come 
from  then?  The  five  great  locks,  and  tricks, 
and  contrivances  to  outwit  a  regiment ;  what 
prying  eyes  or  fingers  will  get  to  know  about 
my  business  when  I  have  everything  shut  up 
here  ?  Alison  may  think  what  she  likes  ;  the 
lass  has  grown  saucy  of  late  ;  but  this  is  no  kind 
of  cupboard  or  desk  that  she  can  try  with  her 
keys  when  I  am  up  on  the  hill.  No,  no,  lass ; 
what  I  have  toiled  and  moiled  for,  that  I  mean 
to  keep ;  and  there  will  be  no  need  to  trust  a 
bank  in  Inverness,  when  I  have  a  safeguard  like 
this  iron  chest.  .  .  .  But  not  a  spot  or  streak 
of  green — not  a  spot  or  a  streak.  Who  can  tell 


AT  FASSLIE  FARM  -, 

where  the  ill-luck  comes  from  ?  Sometimes  it 
strikes  at  your  blood  and  marrow ;  sometimes 
it's  a  bad  lambing  season  ;  sometimes  it's  a  bank 
that  breaks.  But  I  do  my  best  to  keep  well 
with  both  sides ;  the  minister  has  no  fault  to 
find  with  me  ;  and  if  there  are  things  that  are 
stronger  for  good-luck  or  ill-luck,  I  do  my  best 
— ay,  even  to  keep  from  naming  them.  Maybe 
that  was  why  I  got  the  warning  that  Jean 
Gillespie  was  to  die — three  taps  on  the  window 
just  half  an  hour  before,  and  none  hearing  them 
but  myself.  And  the  corpse-lights  on  Drum- 
sinnon  Moor — it's  I  would  have  ridden  along 
with  the  factor  into  the  bog  but  for  the  lights — 
and  I  cried  to  him,  but  the  cry  he  sent  back 
was  the  cry  of  a  drowning  man.  But  there  are 
some  that  have  seen  more  than  that,  and  have 
heard  more  than  that ;  and  it's  well  to  be  friends 
with  them  that  can  hurt  and  harm — whether 
they  are  below  ground  or  above ;  ay,  it  is 
better  to  say  nothing,  lest  they  should  hear  evil 
spoken  of  them,  and  work  mischief  among  the 
lambs,  or  bring  lightning  about  the  house,  as  I 
have  heard  tell.  Not  since  I  was  a  senseless 
lad  have  I  shot  a  single  hare — just  in  case  there 
might  be  a  mistake,  and  a  witch  or  a  warlock 


8  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

spring  up  from  the  ground  :  it's  better  to  be  on 
the  safe  side." 

For  the  moment  he  seemed  to  have  done  with 
his  scraping  and  polishing ;  at  all  events,  he 
laid  aside  the  knife  or  chisel  he  had  been  using, 
and  proceeded  to  open  the  chest.  But  this  was  a 
serious  undertaking,  for  not  only  had  the  big  key 
to  turn  five  locks  at  once,  but  also  there  were 
bars  and  levers  to  be  raised  simultaneously,  de- 
manding the  exercise  of  a  good  deal  of  strength. 
Eventually,  however,  the  heavy  lid  yielded ; 
he  took  both  his  hands  to  raise  it,  and  no  doubt 
the  next  minute  it  would  have  been  resting 
against  the  wall  or  the  window-sill,  but  that 
there  was  a  sudden  interruption  that  startled 
him.  There  was  a  brief,  sharp  tapping,  and  the 
door  of  the  room  was  thrown  open  ;  at  the  same 
time  the  roar  of  the  sea  and  the  wind  that 
seemed  to  fill  the  house  rushed  into  the  little 
apartment,  and  a  cold  air  made  the  candle 
flame  flicker.  Eobert  Graham  had  not  been 
expecting  any  such  unceremonious  visitor ;  he 
wheeled  round  in  his  chair ;  the  lid  of  the  chest 
fell  from  his  hands  and  shut  with  an  alarming 
noise — all  the  five  locks  and  levers  clanging 
at  once ;  and  there  he  found,  standing  before 


.  AT  FASSLIE  FARM  9 

him,  the  stranger  who  had  made  this  sudden 
entrance. 

And  yet  this  was  neither  ghost  nor  wizard 
that  confronted  him  ;  on  the  contrary,  the  new- 
comer was  a  good-looking  young  fellow  of  six- 
and-twenty  or  so;  with  frank  eyes,  close -cropped 
raven-black  hair,  and  an  expression  of  features 
that  in  ordinary  circumstances  might  have  been 
pleasant  and  friendly  enough,  but  was  now  some- 
what embarrassed  by  uncertainty.  Obviously, 
he  was  a  sailor  ;  but  the  smartness  of  his  costume 
showed  that  he  was  not  an  ordinary  hand ;  in 
point  of  fact  he  was  mate  of  a  trading  schooner 
then  lying  at  Nairn  ;  his  name,  Alec  Jameson. 

"  I'm  sorry  to  interrupt  you,  Mr.  Graham," 
he  began,  with  some  hesitation. 

"But  ye  do  interrupt  me,"  the  other  said 
sharply,  and  he  scowled  at  the  younger  man 
from  under  the  bushy  white  eyebrows.  "  Ye  do 
interrupt.  Think  ye  I  have  naething  to  do  wi' 
my  time  ?  I'm  not  a  gentleman  that  can  loiter 
about  wi'  my  hands  in  my  pockets,  hindering 
other  folk,  and  coming  where  he's  not  wanted. 
Ma  certes,  there's  some  that  canna  take  a  hint 
to  leave  until  they  feel  a  horsewhip  curling 
round  their  calves." 


io  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

There  was  a  flash  of  fire  in  the  young  sailor's 
eyes ;  but  he  strove  to  remain  calm — and  even 
courteous. 

"  If  it's  me  you  mean,  Mr.  Graham,"  said 
he  quietly,  "  you  may  rest  content  there's  not  a 
man  in  this  countryside  will  lay  either  hand  or 
horsewhip  on  me.  But  let  that  pass— 

"  What  do  ye  want  ? "  the  old  farmer  said 
abruptly.  "  Time's  money." 

"  Well,  I'm  off  for  Inverness  to-morrow  morn- 
ing " 

"  Ye're  welcome." 

But  Jameson  seemed  determined!  to  be  civil, 
if  that  were  possible. 

"  And  Alison,"  he  continued,  "  was  asking  if 
you  and  I  cannot  manage  to  part  a  little  better 
friends.  The  lass  is  sorry — and  no  wonder — and 
if  there's  anything  that  I  have  done — if  there's 
anything  wrong  that  can  be  put  right " 

"  Let  Alison  mind  her  own  business,"  was  the 
instant  rejoinder ;  "  and  I  can  mind  mine. 
And  what's  more,  neither  Alison's  business  nor 
my  business  is  any  o*  yours.  So  you're  welcome 
to  set  off  for  Inverness  as  soon  as  ever  ye 
like." 

"I  did  not  wish  to  go  without  holding  out 


A  T  FASSLIE  FARM  1 1 

my  hand,  and  seeing  if  we  cannot  come  to  more 
peaceable  terms,"  the  young  sailor  said.  "  It's 
a  fair  offer,  anyway.  It  must  be  a  hard  thing 
for  a  young  lass  to  be  in  a  position  like  that — 
troubling  herself  that  the  only  friends  she  has 
should  be  separated  by  a  quarrel — and  a  quarrel 
about  what  ? — for  I'm  sure  it's  not  me  that 
knows." 

"Alison  wants  no  friends  but  her  own  kith 
and  kin — that's  enough  for  her,"  the  old  man 
said.  "  Why  should  she  take  up  wi'  strangers  ? 
What  is  she  to  gain  by  that  ?  And  it's  not  her 
gain,  it's  theirs  that's  in  question.  Ay,  ay,  an 
old  man  may  be  an  old  man,  and  still  see  clear 
enough.  It's  young  eyes  that  are  dazzled — it's 
young  brains  that  are  made  a  fool  of;  and  a 
silly  crayture  of  a  lass  will  believe  any  smooth- 
spoken idle  fellow  that  comes  hanging  about  her 
and  speaking  her  fair.  But  I'll  have  none  o' 
that  in  this  house,  young  man ;  so  you've  fair 
warning  in  time.  Alison  was  left  in  my  charge, 
and  in  my  charge  she'll  bide.  I'm  for  no  inter- 
lopers here.  I'm  for  people  minding  their  own 
business.  In  trouble,  is  she  ? — and  what's  that 
to  you  ?  A  pretty  pack  o'  nonsense  ! " 

"  Well,  yes,  Mr.  Graham,"  the  younger  man 


12  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

said  civilly,  "Alison  is  in  your  charge  at 
present ;  but  she  might  not  be  always." 

The  deep-set  gray  eyes  darted  an  evil  glance 
at  him,  but  he  did  not  seem  to  notice  that. 

"  You  know  what  both  her  and  me  have  been 
looking  forward  to,"  he  continued,  in  the  most 
pacific  tone  of  voice,  "fend  I  am  sure  it  would 
be  better  for  every  one  if  there  was  a  more 
friendly  feeling  about  it.  And  what  is  the 
objection  ?  If  she  leaves  the  farm,  there's  many 
another  you  could  get  to  keep  the  house " 

"  And  it's  you  that  comes  in  to  tell  me  what 
I  maun  do ! "  the  old  man  said,  glaring  at 
him.  "  It's  you  that  comes  to  me  wi'  advice. 
Let  me  tell  ye,  my  lad,  that  I'm  quite  capable 
o'  looking  after  my  own  affairs,  as  ye'll  find  out 
if  ye  daur  to  meddle  wi'  them.  Ay,  or  wi' 
Alison's  either.  A  clean  pair  o'  heels — that's 
the  best  thing  for  you ;  and  if  Fasslie  never 
sees  ye  again,  Fasslie  will  be  none  the  worse." 

There  was  sufficient  discourtesy  in  the  words ; 
but  there  was  more  in  the  tone  in  which  they 
were  uttered ;  and  the  younger  man,  though  he 
strove  to  keep  cool,  began  to  lose  the  timid  look 
of  appeal  that  had  been  in  his  eyes. 

"  Well,  it's  a  pity,"  he  said.      "  Hard  words 


A  T  F ASS  LIE  FARM  1 3 

will  not  mend  matters  ;  and  I  had  wished  to 
leave  Alison  in  happier  spirits " 

"  The  leaving  her  is  the  best  thing  ye  can  do  ; 
and  the  sooner  the  better.  Have  I  not  bid  ye 
never  darken  my  door  again  ?  God  bless  me,  is 
a  man  not  to  have  peace  and  quietness  in  his 
own  house  ? "  the  old  farmer  cried  angrily. 

"  As  to  that,  I  am  not  so  sure  that  it  is  your 
own  house,"  the  young  man  said  quietly — 
though  his  face  had  gradually  been  becoming 
firmer  and  firmer.  "  But  I  am  not  a  lawyer. 
It  was  Alison's  father's  house,  I  know  ;  and  I 
dare  say  he  did  not  leave  her  without  her  share 
in  it.  But  this  I'm  quite  sure  of,  as  long  as 
Alison  is  in  it,  and  as  long  as  she  is  willing  I 
should  come  to  see  her,  I'm  not  going  to  ask 
anybody  else's  leave.  I  don't  want  to  quarrel, 
Mr.  Graham.  I  don't  want  to  make  matters 
worse.  Indeed,  I  thought  we  might  come  to 
some  kind  of  friendly  understanding — if  not  for 
our  own  sakes,  at  least  for  Alison's.  The  lass  is 
sore  put  about ;  and  why  need  that  be  ?  Why 
should  she  be  in  trouble  when  there's  no  cause 
for  it  ?  I'm  not  asking  her  to  marry  to-morrow 
or  next  day ;  it  would  be  when  it  was  most 
convenient  for  her  and  for  you." 


14  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

Jameson  spoke  fairly  and  temperately,  and 
also  with  a  touch  of  hope — or,  at  least,  of 
entreaty — in  his  look  ;  but  the  unlucky  reference 
to  the  ownership  of  the  house  had  caused  the 
farmer's  eyes  to  gleam  with  wrath,  and  now  his 
voice,  when  he  spoke,  was  hardly  under  his 
control,  so  fiercely  angry  was  he. 

"  And  how  daur  ye,  sir — how  daur  ye  come 
here  to  speak  to  me  about  Alison  or  any  other 
in  this  house  ?  "What  concern  have  ye  as  to 
whether  my  niece  is  well  or  ill  ?  Ay,  I  will  tell 
ye  what  your  interest  is — well  I  know  that,  my 
fine  fellow,  that  can  go  about  the  country  like 
a  gentleman,  while  other  folk  have  to  work  and 
earn  their  living.  Alison  ? — it's  not  Alison,  but 
Alison's  gear  you're  after.  And  ye  think  that  a 
decently-brought-up  girl  like  that  will  consort 
with  an  idle  wastrel  and  gangrel — with  a  sailor- 
chap  that  has  a  wife  in  every  port  he  sails  to  ? 
Get  out  of  this  house,  sir — that  is  my  answer. 
What !  do  you  think  the  lass  is  blind  ?  Ye 
come  after  her  wi'  your  flattering  and  fawning  ; 
bub  is  she  blind  ?  Doesna  she  see  that  it's  her 
share — her  small  share — in  the  farm  that  you're 
after — that  her  father  left  her,  and  that  I  have 
tended  as  if  it  was  my  own  ?  And  where  would 


AT  FASSLIE  FARM  15 

it  be  in  a  year — in  a  week — if  you  had  it  to 
scatter  ?  But  she's  not  blind  ;  she's  not  blind  ; 
you'll  go  the  way  ye  came — and  empty-handed 
as  ye  came  !  " 

He  paused  for  fair  lack  of  breath  ;  but  mean- 
while the  face  of  the  younger  man  had  grown 
darker. 

"  Alison  knows  better,"  said  he ;  and  as  if  it 
were  safer  to  say  no  more. 

"  Alison  1 "  the  old  man  said,  with  his  voice 
now  roused  to  passion  pitch.  "  I'll  have  her 
know — ay,  and  you  too — who  is  the  master  in 
this  house.  I'm  for  no  gangrels  and  wastrels 
skulking  about  my  premises — if  there's  a  shot- 
gun or  a  horsewhip  handy.  A  fine  thing,  to 
make  a  fool  of  a  silly  idiot  of  a  lass,  that  doesna 
ken  the  difference  between  an  honest  man  and  a 
thief — a  thief  that  would  get  hold  of  whatever 
she  has,  and  waste  it  in  his  idle  courses.  But 
that's  no  done  yet ;  no,  nor  while  I'm  above 
ground  will  it  be  done." 

"  It's  the  first  time  in  my  life  that  I  have 
ever  been  called  a  thief,"  Alec  Jameson  said,  and 
his  hands  were  trembling  a  little,  though  he 
spoke  with  a  kind  of  forced  composure.  "  Well, 
I  intend  to  see  who  is  the  thief." 


16  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

"  What  mean  ye,  you  scoundrel  ? " 

"  I  mean  this — plump  and  plain  will  I  tell  ye 
what  I  mean,"  the  younger  man  said;  and  it 
was  evident  that  he  had  done  now  with  all 
thoughts  of  pacification.  "  I  offered  to  make 
friends  wi'  you — for  Alison's  sake.  That's  not 
to  be.  Well  and  good.  You  and  I  will  settle 
this  matter  between  ourselves  now,  Mr.  Graham  ; 
and  brag  will  not  do  it ;  and  bluster  will  not  do 
it ;  and  calling  names  will  not  do  it.  Thief  ? 
My  good  man,  that  is  a  very  ugly  word.  It's  I 
that  want  to  know  who  is  the  thief." 

"  Will  you  leave  my  house  ? "  the  farmer  said, 
springing  to  his  feet. 

"  No,  I  will  not.  And  I  will  not  leave  this 
room  until  I  have  said  my  say,"  was  the  calm 
rejoinder,  though  Jameson's  lips  were  rather 
pale,  and  his  eyes  full  of  a  dangerous  fire. 
"  Mind  you,  Alison  will  be  guided  by  me — that's 
one  thing  you  may  make  sure  of;  and  I'm 
thinking  it's  time  there  was  a  settlement  about 
her  share  in  the  farm  that  was  left  her  by  her 
father.  Where  has  that  gone  to  all  these  years  ? 
Not  a  penny  has  she  had  to  spend  on  herself 
except  for  clothes,  and  she's  clad  like  a  servant 
lass  ;  she  is  but  a  servant  lass,  but  that  she  gets 


AT  PASS  LIE  FARM  17 

no  wages.  Where's  her  money?  Where's  her 
father's  will,  that  she  can  tell  what  belongs  to 
her  ?  And  you  think  that  everything  is  to  go 
on  as  it  is — the  lass  slaving  away  and  keeping 
the  house  for  you,  and  never  to  think  of  altering 
her  condition,  and  never  to  ask  questions,  but 
to  let  you  make  away  with  her  money  from 
year  to  year  ?  But  there's  an  end  to  that  now 
—there's  an  end ;  and  the  lawyers  in  Inverness 
will  be  called  in  to  declare  who  is  the  thief." 

Eage  pure  and  simple  seemed  to  have  para- 
lysed the  old  man,  but  only  for  a  few  seconds. 
With  a  kind  of  inarticulate  cry  of  "  You 
scoundrel !  you  scoundrel ! "  he  sprang  forward 
with  uplifted  arm,  as  if  threatening  to  fell  his 
enemy.  But  Jameson  merely  held  out  his  open 
hand,  palm  outward. 

"  Don't  you  come  near  me.  I  warn  you. 
You're  an  older  man  than  I  am,  and  I  don't 
want  to  strike  you  ;  but  I  will  allow  no  man  to 
put  a  hand  on  me.  I'm  going.  I've  said  my 
say.  I  wanted  to  be  friends  with  you — for 
Alison's  sake.  Now  it's  war.  And  there's  them 
in  Inverness  will  soon  be  brought  to  declare 
which  of  us  two  is  the  thief." 

He  turned  abruptly  and  left, 

c 


1 8  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

"  And  may  the  lightning  from  heaven  blast 
you  ere  ever  you  set  foot  in  Inverness  streets  ! " 
the  older  man  said,  scowling  helplessly  at  the 
now  vacant  doorway. 

He  went  back  to  his  seat  in  front  of  the  iron 
chest,  and  sate  down  ;  he  was  all  shaking  with 
the  excitement  of  this  stormy  interview  ;  but  the 
anger  in  his  heart,  instead  of  subsiding,  grew  only 
the  more  fierce  as  he  thought  of  the  meaning  of 
the  young  sailor's  threats.  He  chanced  to  look 
out  of  the  window  at  the  heavily-rolling  sea  that 
was  clearly  visible  for  miles  and  miles  in  the 
moonlight. 

"  Ay,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  that  is  the  sailor's 
grave,  wide  and  deep ;  that  is  the  thing  that 
comes  to  you  in  the  end  ;  there  are  no  threats 
when  there's  fifty  fathoms  o'  water  above  ye — 
and  I  would  to  God  you  were  lying  there  now  ! 
The  insolent  scoundrel  !— and  he  has  got  this 
brat  to  go  with  him ;  and  the  lawyers  at  Inver- 
ness ? " 

He  rose  and  began  walking  up  and  down  the 
small  apartment,  muttering  to  himself  sometimes, 
as  was  his  wont,  and  sometimes  standing  still 
to  look  out  on  the  far  stretch  of  wind-driven 
moonlit  sea. 


AT  FASSLIE  FARM  19 

"  There's  them  that  can  hurt,"  he  was  saying 
to  himself,  "  and  if  all  the  stories  be  true,  some- 
times you  can  get  them  on  your  side,  and  they'll 
work  for  you — a  mischief  on  your  enemies  as 
easily  as  anything  else.  I've  heard  of  ships  being 
struck  by  lightning  coming  out  of  a  clear  sky — 
how  was  that  but  by  some  interference  ? — but 
he's  not  on  the  sea,  nor  will  be  for  a  while  yet,  I 
suppose  ;  the  grave  is  waiting  him  there — wide 
and  deep — wide  and  deep — but  it  may  be  a  long 
time  yet. ' 

He  turned  to  the  open  door,  as  if  fearful  that 
these  unspoken  desires  might  be  overheard  ;  then 
he  went  to  the  top  of  the  stair,  and  listened  ; 
there  was  no  sound  but  the  cry  of  the  wind  and 
the  heavier  plunge  of  the  sea ;  then  he  returned 
to  the  room,  and  shut  the  door  behind  him,  and 
resumed  his  dark  meditations. 

"The  venomous  snake,  to  come  creeping 
into  a  man's  house  ! — but  I'll  be  even  with  him 
yet,  if  I  burn  the  heather  for  a  mile  round  him. 
Ay,  I  have  seen  them  twisting  themselves  into  a 
ball,  and  writhing  and  writhing  as  the  circle  of 
the  fire  came  closer  and  closer  on  them  ;  and 
that's  how  I'll  have  him  writhe  sooner  or  later  ; 
and  then  there  will  be  a  laugh  !  Oh,  it's  very 

c  2 


20  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

safe  you  are  when  you're  burning  the  heather ; 
you're  on  the  outside  of  the  ring  ;  it's  the  adders 
that  are  in  the  middle,  and  lively  enough  they 
are  when  the  flame  comes  hotter  and  hotter  on 
them.  And  that's  the  flame  I  would  have  burning 
in  his  heart !  " 

And  then  he  went  back  upon  the  line  of  think- 
ing that  had  occupied  him  when  he  was  scraping 
the  last  traces  of  paint  from  the  lid  of  the  iron 
chest. 

"  I  have  been  a  careful  man — careful  not  to 
offend  either  side  ;  and  if  they're  friendly  to  me 
now,  as  I  think  they  were  when  the  factor  rode 
into  the  bog,  maybe  they  would  help.  Ay,  that 
would  be  the  way  to  get  even  with  him,  instead 
of  waiting  for  the  wide  grave  there ;  and  maybe, 
if  they  would  set  to  work  at  once,  there  might 
be  a  stop  put  to  this  business  with  the  lawyers 
in  Inverness.  They  say  the  wise  women  can 
manage  it ;  but  it's  hard  to  get  at  them ;  the 
Fiscal  hunts  them  and  hunts  them  whenever  he 
gets  the  chance  ;  and  there's  scarcely  a  one  left 
now.  But  I've  heard  of  them  now  and  again  ; 
and  I  could  find  out ;  and  if  the  unknown  people 
are  friendly  to  me — if  they  understand  that  I 
never  took  a  stick  or  a  stone  from  a  Sith-bruth 


A  T  FASSLIE  FARM.  21 

all  the  years  of  my  life — then,  my  friend  Jameson, 
I  may  be  upsides  with  you :  ay,  it  will  not  be 
the  lawyers  in  Inverness  you  will  be  thinking  of ; 
you  will  be  writhing  like  the  snakes  when  the 
heather  is  on  fire." 


22  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 


CHAPTER  II. 

BY     THE     SHORE. 

MEANWHILE  the  young  sailor  had  quickly  re- 
covered his  equanimity.  As  he  went  down  the 
stair  and  along  the  passage  to  the  outer  door 
of  the  house  he  was  somewhat  ostentatiously 
whistling — just  in  case  one  or  other  of  the  lads 
or  lasses  might  happen  to  have  overheard  these 
high  words.  And  probably  in  making  that  final 
appeal  to  the  old  man  he  had  been  moved  rather 
by  the  wish  to  please  pretty  Alison  Graham  than 
by  any  distinct  hope  of  success ;  and  now  he  was 
no  worse  off  than  he  was  before  ;  rather  better  he 
was,  in  truth,  for  this  open  declaration  of  war 
was  preferable  to  mere  shilly-shallying  and  futile 
balancing  of  probabilities.  Alison  would  now 
know  the  worst ;  she  would  be  called  upon  to 
choose  for  herself.  And  as  for  the  taunt  that  it 
was  only  her  money  that  he  was  after — well,  he 


BY  THE  SHORE  23 

would  leave  that  question  also  to  be  settled  by 
Alison  ;  and  he  thought  he  knew  what  her  answer 
would  be. 

And  so  he  left  the  house — fixing  his  cap  tight 
in  order  to  face  the  fierce  gusts  of  wind — and  set 
out  along  the  road  leading  by  the  shore.  If  he 
was  whistling  now,  no  one  could  hear  him,  for  all 
the  night  was  filled  with  the  rush  and  roar  of 
that  wide  moonlit  sea  that  came  thundering  in 
on  the  rocks  below ;  but  there  seemed  no  further 
need  to  make  any  such  profession  of  cheerfulness, 
for  apparently  he  was  quite  alone  in  this  strangely 
clear  and  vivid  world.  For  some  little  distance, 
as  he  walked  smartly  on,  the  road  followed  the 
windings  of  the  shore ;  then  it  struck  inland 
somewhat,  skirting  a  plantation  of  larch  and 
spruce ;  and  it  was  at  the  corner  of  this  wood 
that  Jameson  paused  and  looked  around  him, 
uncertain.  He  had  not  long  to  wait.  The  next 
moment  the  figure  of  a  young  woman  had  come 
quickly  and  quietly  out  from  the  dusk  of  the 
larches  into  the  open  moonlight :  his  sweetheart 
was  clasped  in  his  arms. 

"  Well,  Ailie,  lass,  it's  a  wild  night  to  be  keep- 
ing you  outside." 

"  But  what  said  he,  Alec — what  said  he  ? "  she 


24  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

broke  in,  with  a  trembling  anxiety  in  her  tone. 
"Is  it  all  right  now,  Alec?  Have  you  made 
friends  ? " 

The  young  sailor  laughed,  in  an  embarrassed 
kind  of  way ;  and  pushed  back  the  thick  tartan 
shawl  which  she  had  thrown  over  her  head  and 
shoulders,  so  that  he  could  get  a  better  view  of 
the  upturned  oval  face,  and  tender  dark  blue 
eyes,  and  rich  and  abundant  chestnut-brown 
hair.  He  seemed  in  no  hurry  to  begin  his  story. 
Those  eyes  were  pretty  to  look  at,  despite  their 
eager  questioning ;  and  her  brown  hair  that  he 
had  brought  about  her  cheeks  was  soft  to  the 
touch. 

"  Tell  me,  Alec — is  it  good  news  you  have  ? " 
she  pleaded,  for  that  short  laugh  of  his  sounded 
somewhat  ominous. 

"Faith,  Ailie,  lass,  the  news  is  none  of  the 
best,"  said  he  (though  he  spoke  quite  cheerfully, 
and  petted  and  caressed  her  at  the  same  time). 
"  But  it's  nothing  to  be  downhearted  about — 
not  a  bit,  my  brave  lassie.  He  cannot  blame 
you  for  what  has  happened,  anyway ;  and 
you'll  be  no  worse  off  at  the  farm  than 
before." 

"But  what  has  happened,  then,  Alec?"  she 


BY  THE  SHORE  25 

said,  with  her  troubled  eyes  fixed  intently  on 
him. 

"  What  has  happened  ?  Well,  the  fat's  in  the 
fire  this  time,  and  no  mistake,  and  that's  about 
what  has  happened,  Ailie,  darling,"  said  he, 
rather  ruefully,  and  yet  with  no  deep  chagrin, 
for  he  wished  to  make  light  of  the  whole  matter. 
"Oh,  there's  to  be  no  more  beating  about  the 
bush,  I  warrant  ye  ;  your  uncle  and  I  have  come 
to  a  plain  understanding  at  last." 

"  You've  quarrelled — worse  than  ever  !  "  she 
cried. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  and  he  took  the  pretty  oval 
face  in  his  two  hands,  "  and  what  is  there  to  be 
frightened  at?  Why  should  your  pretty  eyes 
look  so  troubled — all  about  nothing  ?  " 

"And  you  said  you  would  be  patient — you 
said  you  would  be  patient — for  my  sake,"  she 
said  reproachfully. 

"  And  I  was,"  he  answered ;  "  I  was  indeed. 
Patient  ?  Yes,  as  long  as  might  be.  Well,  I'll 
tell  you  the  truth,  Ailie.  I  did  what  I  could,  at 
the  beginning.  I  tried  to  be  as  friendly  as  ever 
I  could  speak — though  I  would  not  have  taken 
what  he  said  to  me  from  any  other  man ;  for  I 
kept  thinking  of  you,  Ailie,  and  of  your  life  at 


26  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

the  farm ;   and  says  I  to  myself,  *  Hard  words 
don't  break  bones,  and  it's  all  for  Ailie's  sake.' 
Then   there  came  something   that  I  could   not 
stand- 
He  paused,  seemingly  reluctant  to  go  on. 

" What  was  it,  Alec?" 

He  regarded  her  in  silence  for  a  second  or  so, 
pretending  to  scan  her  face  curiously. 

"  But  if  I  put  such  things  into  your  head,  my 
dearie,  maybe  you'd  think  them  true  ? " 

"  What  things  ?  " 

"  Supposing  you  were  to  hear  it  said  that  it 
was  not  you  that  I  wanted,  but  your  money— 
your  share  of  the  farm  and  the  house  ? " 

He  affected  to  retreat  from  her  a  little  bit,  and 
in  fact  withdrew  his  hands  from  her  shoulders. 

"  And  if  you  told  me  so  yourself,  I  would  not 
believe  you,"  said  she  simply. 

"But  are  you  sure,  now,  Ailie?  Maybe  it's 
true.  If  you  were  to  be  told  that  I  was  an  idle 
wastrel  and  vagabond,  with  a  wife  in  every  port 
the  Princess  Mary  sails  to,  and  that  I  only 
wanted  to  get  hold  of  your  money  to  scatter  and 
spend  it — and  to  leave  you  when  it  was  done,  I 
dare  say — supposing  you  were  to  hear  that  said 
of  me?" 


BY  THE  SHORE  27 

There  was  a  proud  smile  on  her  face.  She  did 
not  answer. 

"  Look  here,  Ailie,"  he  continued.  "  Just  con- 
sider. Maybe  they're  no  so  far  wrong.  Here 
am  I  with  an  offer  from  the  owners  of  the 
Princess  Mary  that  they'll  make  me  skipper  as 
soon  as  I  can  raise  enough  money  to  buy  a  fifth 
share.  It's  a  terrible  temptation  for  a  man. 
And  then  there's  a  young  lass  at  Fasslie,  that 
ought  to  be  well  off  if  she  had  all  that  belongs 
to  her  ;  and  I  come  courting  that  young  lass, 
and  telling  her  she's  the  prettiest  lass  in  the 
north  of  Scotland — only,  that's  no  lie,  for  her 
looking-glass  can  tell  her  as  much  any  day  in 
the  week — and  pretending  that  it's  her  I'm  after, 
when  it's  the  captain's  cabin  in  the  Princess 
Mary  I'm  after " 

"  And  you  would  have  the  money  to-morrow 
morning,  Alec,  if  I  had  it  to  give  you,"  said  she, 
which  ,was  a  quite  illogical  climax  to  these 
speculations  of  his. 

"  But  wait  a  minute,  Ailie,"  he  said.  "  For 
this  you'll  never  guess.  I  go  to  see  the  uncle  of 
the  young  lass,  to  make  peace  with  him,  and 
win  him  over ;  but  he'll  no  hear  of  anything  of 
the  kind ;  and  what  is  all  the  quarrel  about  ? — 


28  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

why,  it's  about  the  young  lass's  property,  and  her 
share  in  this  and  that,  and  what  the  lawyers  in 
Inverness  would  have  to  say.  Money — money 
— money — is  the  whole  cry.  Very  well.  And 
yet  you  say  you  would  not  believe  that  of  me  ?  " 

"And  maybe  it's  not  the  first  time  I  have 
heard  such  things  hinted,"  said  she,  with  a 
smile ;  and,  indeed,  if  he  remained  apart  and 
affected  to  scrutinise  her,  the  look  that  she 
bestowed  on  him  in  return  had  not  much  of 
doubt  or  distrust  in  it.  "  Oh,  yes ;  and  many's 
the  time  I  have  been  glad  to  think  that  some- 
thing would  be  coming  to  me — if  my  uncle  would 
only  make  up  the  accounts.  For,  if  we  were  to 
marry,  Alec " 

"  If  we  were  to  marry  ? "  he  cried,  and  he 
came  nearer  her  again,  and  took  hold  of  her  by 
•the  two  shoulders. 

"  Well,  when  we  marry,"  she  said,  with  down- 
cast eyes,  "it  will  be  something  to  start  the 
house  with,  wherever  we  may  choose  to  live. 
Oh  yes ;  and  the  share  in  the  ship,  too — if  it 
is  possible ;  do  you  think  you  would  be  five 
minutes  without  that,  if  I  had  the  money  in  my 
hand  ?  "Would  it  not  be  for  my  good  as  well  as 
for  yours,  my  dear  1 " 


BY  THE  SHORE  29 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  he,  "  for  there's  the  captain's 
cabin,  Ailie,  and  you  could  come  a  voyage  with 
me  now  and  again,  and  I  would  introduce  you  to 
my  other  wives  in  the  different  places." 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  that,"  she  said. 

"Well,  now,  Ailie,"  said  he,  speaking  more 
seriously,  "when  that  was  cast  in  my  teeth — 
that  it  was  your  money  I  was  after — I  could  not 
stand  that.  To  be  called  a  thief,  too :  ay,  and 
who  is  the  thief?  says  I.  Where  is  the  money 
you  have  kept  back  from  Alison  all  these  years  ? 
What  kind  of  a  story  will  the  lawyers  have  to 
make  out  1  For  it  was  a  stiffish  quarrel,  Ailie, 
darling,  and  that's  a  fact;  and  it's  all  over 
between  him  and  me,  for  certain;  and  we've 
got  to  make  the  best  of  matters  as  they  stand. 
It's  never  again  shall  I  be  within  that  house ,' 
that's  fixed :  no,  it's  you  that  have  to  come  to 
me  now;  I  will  never  be  inside  that  house 
again." 

"  Alec !  Alec ! "  she  said,  in  a  voice  of  deep 
entreaty.  "  Surely  it  is  not  so  bad  as  that !  I 
asked  you  to  be  patient— 

"  Patient,  lassie  ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  I  tell  you 
I  was  as  patient  as  man  ever  was.  Bless  me,  I 
had  to  warn  him  back,  or  he  would  have  struck 


3o  THE  [VISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

me  with  his  fist.  The  man's  mad,  I'm  thinking ; 
or  else  it's  this — that  he  is  keeping  back  even 
more  than  we  suspect,  and  that  the  very  mention 
of  lawyers  is  enough  to  drive  him  out  of  his  wits. 
Well,  what's  done  is  done  ;  what  we  have  to  do 
is  the  next  thing.  You  see,  lass,  I  have  no  right 
to  interfere  in  your  affairs  at  all." 

"  And  why  not,  Alec  ? "  said  she.  "  And  if 
not  you,  who  else,  then  ?  It's  not  my  uncle  I 
would  look  to.  I  think  he  would  be  glad  if  I 
were  dead  and  out  of  the  way." 

"  No  doubt ;  that's  the  very  thing  that  would 
suit  him ;  but  we  cannot  just  oblige  him  so  far 
as  that,  lass,"  Jameson  said.  "  Out  of  the  way, 
maybe  ;  yes,  we  may  take  ye  out  of  the  wTay — or 
out  of  his  way,  rather  ;  but  if  ye  were  to  be  ruled 
by  me — or  if  it  was  my  business  to  interfere — he 
would  soon  find  out  that  ye  were  not  dead  at  all, 
but  very  much  alive." 

"  What  would  you  have  me  do,  Alec  ?  I  have 
none  to  look  to  but  you.  What  is  it  you  want 
me  to  do  ?  "  said  she,  with  absolute  trust  in  her 
eyes. 

"  Leave  Fasslie,"  said  he  at  once,  "  and  come 
and  live  with  my  mother  at  Nairn  for  a  few 
weeks.  Then  we  will  get  married,  and  then  I 


BY  THE  SHORE  31 

will  have  the  right  to  interfere  in  your  affaiis — 
and  who  else  ?  " 

She  sighed  a  little. 

"  It's  a  pity,"  she  said,  at  length.  "  I  thought 
some  friendly  arrangement  might  be  made. 
Why  should  my  uncle  be  set  against  it?  He 
will  have  plenty,  even  after  I  go." 

"  Perhaps  there  is  a  little  settling  up  of 
accounts  that  might  be  inconvenient,"  the  young 
man  suggested,  drily  ;  but  instantly  he  added, 
in  a  tone  of  vexation,  "But  how  is  it  that 
money,  and  money,  and  money,  seems  to  fill  the 
whole  of  this  night  ?  No,  no  ;  I  will  not  inter- 
fere. Somebody  else  must  guide  ye,  lass.  Take 
advice,  now.  Go  to  some  shrewd-witted  person, 
and  just  tell  the  truth.  Say  you  have  a  sweet- 
heart and  you  are  not  sure  of  him " 

"  Alec  !  "  she  said,  and  forthwith  the  pretty 
appealing  blue  eyes  began  to  fill  with  tears. 

"But  it's  the  way  of  the  world,  you  foolish 
creature ! "  he  said,  with  pretended  anger. 
"  How  do  you  know  that  your  undo  is  not 
right?" 

"It  is  no  use  your  speaking  like  that— to 
me,"  she  said  proudly.  "  No,  and  it  is  not  fair, 
Alec.  And  it  is  not  so  much  time  we  have 


32  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

together  that  you  should  throw  it  away  in 
speaking  nonsense." 

"  Well,  then,  will  you  leave  Fasslie  ?  " 

For  answer  she  clutched  his  hand,  in  affright. 
Her  feminine  watchfulness  had  caught  sight  of 
something  that  he  had  not  noticed  at  all — the 
figure  of  a  man  away  along  there  on  the  white 
moonlit  road. 

"  It's  my  uncle,"  she  said ;  and  instinctively 
she  caught  her  lover  by  the  arm  and  drew  him 
further  into  the  dusk  of  the  trees. 

But  they  could  still  easily  make  out  the  dark 
figure  coming  along  the  white  road ;  nay  more, 
they  could  observe  his  every  movement.  And 
presently  it  was  apparent  that  he  was  searching 
every  nook  and  cranny  along  the  shore ;  and 
they  guessed  readily  enough  that  he  had  come 
out  in  quest  of  his  niece,  having  missed  her  in 
the  house.  Jameson  and  his  sweetheart  stood 
perfectly  still — behind  the  screen  of  young 
larches  and  spruce.  As  for  the  young  man,  he 
was  quite  aware  that  the  farmer  would  be  in  a 
violent  temper,  but  he  did  not  heed  that  much  ; 
he  merely  thought  it  would  be  an  excellent  joke 
if  Alison's  uncle  were  to  go  by  their  hiding-place, 
so  that  the  girl  might  get  home  before  him. 


BY  THE  SHORE  33 

And  if  he  did  find  her,  what  more  could  he  do 
than  scold  ?  and  he,  Jameson,  would  take  care 
that  the  words  were  not  too  uncivil. 
/  But  the  next  moment  a  quick  pang  of  dis- 
may— or  of  anger — or  of  both  together — shot 
through  his  heart.  The  old  man  carried  a  horse- 
whip !  A  horsewhip — and  for  whom  ?  Would  he 
dare  to  raise  it  against  her — even  by  way  of  a 
threat — as  he  drove  her  home  ?  All  the  young 
man's  blood  was  on  fire.  A  horsewhip — to  his 
Alison  ? 

"  Here,  lass,  come  along  ;  I  want  to  see  what 
this  means." 

He  took  her  hand  and  led  her  out  into  the 
road.  When  the  old  farmer  came  along,  they 
were  standing  right  before  him. 

"And  it's  there  ye  are,  ye  limmer,  ye  hussy 
— disgracing  an  honest  man's  house  !  "  he  said, 
in  tones  of  suppressed  rage  ;  but  he  did  not  come 
any  nearer,  for  Jameson  had  stepped  forward. 
"Home  wi'  ye — home  wi'  ye — ye  shameless 
hussy ! " 

The  two  men  were  now  face  to  face. 

"Another  word  like  that  to  the  lass,"  the 
younger  man  said,  "  and  by  the  Lord  I'll  heave 
you  on  to  the  rocks  there  ! " 

D 


34  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OP  INVERNESS 

A  timid  hand  was  put  on  his  arm  ;  he  shook 
it  off. 

"  Leave  me  alone,  lass  ;  we're  going  to  settle 
this  thing  now  and  here." 

"  Settle  it  ?  "  the  old  farmer  said,  and  the 
horsewhip  that  he  held  in  his  hand  shook  and 
trembled  with  the  violence  of  his  passion. 
"  And  who  are  you,  sir,  that  daur  to  come 
between  me  and  her  ?  I  tell  you  I  will  have 
the  mastery  of  her  so  long  as  she  bides  in  my 
house.  I  will  not  have  the  very  name  of  the 
place  disgraced  by  her  wandering  about  at  night 
wi'  a  vagabond.  Out  of  the  way,  now — and  you, 
you  limmer,  home  wi'  ye,  ere  the  very  servants 
come  out  to  mock  ye." 

And  perhaps  he  would  have  gone  forward  to 
seize  her  by  the  arm  and  drag  her  home  but  that 
the  young  sailor  who  stood  before  him  did  not 
show  the  slightest  intention  of  stepping  aside. 
On  the  contrary,  he  was  very  much  in  the  way, 
and  remained  so ;  and  there  was  a  kind  of  sar- 
casm in  his  look. 

"  Yes  ;  it's  a  fine  home  for  her  to  go  to,"  said 
he  (for  he  was  not  much  of  a  hand  at  scolding), 
"  and  it's  a  fine  guardian  you've  been  to  her— 
just  as  if  she  had  been  your  own  bairn.  Oh 


BY  THE  SHORE  35 

yes,  saving  up  for  her,  and  scraping  everything 
together  for  her — it  was  just  out  o'  kindness,  I 
suppose,  that  she  has  scarcely  ever  had  a  sixpence 
to  spend  on  herself — yes,  and  selling  the  pony 
that  her  father  bought  for  her — that  was  to  add 
up  too,  I  suppose " 

"  Alec,  Alec ! "  the  girl  said,  trying  to  inter- 
pose. "  And  you,  uncle — why  should  there  be  a 
quarrel  ? " 

"  Will  ye  go  home — will  ye  go  home,  I  tell 
ye  ? "  the  old  man  roared. 

"  No,  she  will  not  go  home  until  it  suits  her 
own  convenience,"  Jameson  said,  and  he  seemed 
to  grow  more  and  more  cool  and  quiet  in  de- 
meanour the  greater  the  rage  of  his  antagonist 
became.  "  It's  a  nice  home  you've  made  for  her 
since  her  father  died,  and  it's  a  pleasant  life  the 
lass  has  had  to  lead.  "Well,  that's  about  over 
now.  If  it's  news  to  you,  you're  welcome  : 
Alison  is  going  to  leave  Fasslie." 

"  Leave  Fasslie ! "  the  other  gasped :  it 
seemed,  then,  there  was  a  conspiracy  between 
these  two  ?  They  had  laid  their  heads  together  to 
dare  him — to  try  to  cheat  him  out  of  that  hoard 
that  he  had  been  so  diligently  amassing  ever  since 
the  management  of  the  farm  fell  into  his  hands  ? 

D  2 


36  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

"  Uncle,  I  do  not  wish  to  leave  Fasslie," 
Alison  pleaded ;  and  she  had  been  crying  a  little 
over  this  wrangle  that  seemed  so  hopeless,  and 
that  seemed  to  bode  so  much  trouble  for  the 
future. 

"  No,  nor  will  ye  leave  Fasslie  with  my  will, 
ye  graceless  hussy  !  "  he  cried.  "  What,  leave 
the  place  ye  were  born  in — and  for  what  ?  To 
face  the  world  with  an  idle  vagabond— 

"  Vagabond  he  is  not ! "  she  exclaimed,  firing 
up  at  the  word.  "  And  you  will  do  no  good 
with  me,  uncle,  by  speaking  ill  of  him " 

"  Ailie,  lass,  what  does  it  matter  ?  "  her  lover 
interposed  ;  but  she  was  not  to  be  interrupted  : 
she  would  have  her  say  out. 

"  And  I  did  not  wish  to  leave  Fasslie  ;  but 
what  else  is  there  now  ?  What  can  I  do  but 
that  ?  There  will  be  no  peace " 

"What  else  is  there?"  he  bellowed — for  he 
was  like  a  madman  in  his  impotent  fury  :  Jame- 
son standing  there  facing  him,  and  daring  him 
to  advance  a  step.  "  What  else  ?  There's  a 
whip  to  curl  round  your  shoulders,  ye  impudent 
limmer " 

"  Ay  ? "  said  Jameson  quickly.  "  Is  that  it, 
then  ? '' 


BY  THE  SHORE  37 

Before  the  farmer  could  tell  what  had  hap- 
pened the  horsewhip  was  snatched  from  his  hand, 
the  stick  of  it  snapped  in  two,  and  both  pieces 
whirled  away  through  the  air — and  falling, 
indeed,  on  the  rocks  below  them. 

"  And  it's  the  same  for  you,  if  you  like,  my 
man,"  the  young  sailor  said,  with  his  eyes  afire. 
"  Would  you  like  to  follow  ?  A  horsewhip — to 
a  young  lass  ?  To  speak  of  such  a  thing — you 
white-headed  old  thief  and  coward  !  By  the 
Lord  I  wonder  I  can  let  you  stand  there." 

For  a  moment  it  seemed  as  if  the  old  man 
were  about  to  rush  upon  his  antagonist  (who  was 
sorely  hampered,  too,  by  Alison  clinging  to  him 
and  trying  to  pull  him  away)  but  he  suddenly 
changed  his  mind;  he  turned  and  strode  off, 
crunching  the  stones  in  the  road  in  the  blind 
fury  of  his  wrath  ;  and  plainly  enough  they  could 
hear  him  say,  "I'll  have  the  dogs  down;  I'll 
have  the  dogs  down,  and  chase  ye  from  the 
countryside,  ye  scoundrel  vagabond." 

And  then  Jameson  turned  to  his  sweetheart, 
who  was  all  trembling  and  sobbing  and  fright- 
ened ;  and  he  would  wipe  the  tears  away  from 
her  pretty  face  ;  and  he  called  her  all  kinds  of 
soft  pet  names,  and  bade  her  be  of  courage. 


38  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

"For  you  see  how  matters  stand  now,  Ailie, 
my  dear,"  said  he,  and  he  smoothed  her  hair 
back  from  her  forehead,  as  if  he  would  have 
nothing  come  between  him  and  the  open  clear 
depths  of  her  eyes.  "  And  it's  no  use  hoping 
that  a  madman  will  become  a  reasonable  man. 
Your  life  at  the  farm  will  be  a  misery  as  long  as 
you  bide  there  ;  and  I  am  not  afraid  to  ask  you 
to  come  away  ;  anything  will  be  better  than  that ; 
and,  when  you  are  living  with  my  mother,  then 
there  will  be  time  and  peace  and  comfort  for  you 
to  consider  what  you  will  do  next.  No,  I  am 
not  afraid  to  ask  you  to  do  as  much  as  that,  for 
that  will  be  for  your  good,  I  know— 

"  But  I  will  do  anything  you  tell  me,  Alec," 
said  she,  and  her  absolute  confidence  in  him  was 
apparent  as  much  in  her  manner  as  in  her  words, 
"  for  I  have  no  one  in  the  world  to  guide  me  but 
you." 

"  You  have  your  own  common  sense,  Ailie. 
And  you  must  know  that  sailors  have  an  ill 
name.  And  you  must  not  trust  me  any  further 
than  what  a  stranger  would  say  was  right." 

"  But  I  do  trust  you ;  and  how  can  you  help 
that  ?  "  said  she,  with  a  smile  struggling  through 
her  tears. 


BY  THE  SHORE  39 

"  Then  I'll  have  to  guard  you  against  your- 
self ;  and  very  easy  it  will  be ;  for,  when  you're 
living  in  Nairn,  we'll  just  get  the  lawyer  folk  to 
tie  up  whatever  money  ye  may  have — I  mean, 
whatever  money  they  may  be  able  to  get  from 
your  uncle 

"  But  they  cannot  tie  it  up  if  I  want  to  give 
it  to  you,"  said  she.  "  And,  oh,  Alec,  wouldn't 
it  be  fine  if  we  could  buy  the  fifth  share  in  the 
ship — and  you  to  be  made  captain  !  " 

"  Yes,  and  what  would  be  just  as  fine  would 
be  this — if  we  were  to  rent  a  small  cottage  just 
outside  Nairn,  or  Elgin,  or  Inverness  ;  and  you 
to  have  a  little  garden  to  amuse  yourself  wi' 
when  I'm  away,  and  a  little  servant-lass  to  help 
you — you  see,  Ailie,  everything's  to  be  little — 
the  cottage,  the  garden,  the  servant-lass — it's 
like  the  old  song,  you  know,  f  When  a  little  farm 
we  keep ' — I  say,  everything  is  to  be  little  except 
one  thing,  and  that  is  the  love  of  your  heart, 
Ailie." 

"But  you  cannot  expect  me  to  keep  that 
little,"  said  she,  regarding  him  with  her  fond, 
trusting  eyes.  "  Anything  else — except  that." 

"  No,  no,  you  will  keep  that  as  big  as  you  can, 
my  dear,  as  long  as  it  is  mine,"  said  he. 


40  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

Then  he  bethought  him  of  the  farmer's  parting 
threat. 

"  Well,  I  must  be  off,  Ailie,  for  I  don't  want 
to  be  worried  by  a  lot  of  yelping  collies." 

"  Oh,  do  you  think  the  dogs  would  harm  any 
one  that  is  with  me  ?  "  she  said  confidently. 

"  Well,  it's  no  use  having  any  more  quarrel- 
ling ;  there's  been  enough  of  that  for  a  while. 
And,  as  soon  as  I  get  back,  I  will  go  through  to 
Nairn,  and  my  mother  will  arrange  for  your 
coming — and  the  sooner  the  better.  The 
Princess  Mary  will  not  be  ready  for  a  week  yet, 
and  you  could  write  and  say  where  I  am  to  meet 
you " 

"  But  if  my  uncle  will  not  let  me  leave  the 
farm?" 

"  How  is  he  to  hinder  you  ?  " 

"He  might  lock  me  up  in  a  room,"  said 
Alison. 

And  loudly  he  laughed. 

"  I'm  thinking  that  would  not  last  long,  Ailie, 
my  dear  !  I'm  thinking  I  would  soon  have  some 
of  the  lads  with  me,  and  we'd  get  you  out,  if  we 
stripped  the  slates  off  the  roof.  No,  no  ;  it's 
when  you  want  to  leave  the  farm,  you'll  leave  it 
— I  will  take  care  of  that ;  and  your  room  will 


BY  THE  SHORE  41 

be  ready  for  you  in  Nairn — as  neat  and  clean 
and  smart  as  a  new  pin." 

And  then  at  length  he  had  to  go  ;  and  he  had 
comforted  her  amazingly,  and  she  was  smiling 
through  her  tears  ;  and  when  the  final  good-bye 
was  said,  and  the  last  hand-shake  and  kiss  given 
and  taken,  and  the  last,  long,  lingering  look  with- 
drawn, she  turned  and  took  her  way  towards  the 
solitary  farm-house,  through  the  loud-reverbe- 
rating, clear,  moonlight  night. 


42  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 


CHAPTEE  III. 

A  CONSPIRACY. 

INVERNESS  is  not  much  of  a  seaport,  and  the 
occasional  rows  of  small  houses  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  the  almost  disused  quays  are  visited  by 
but  few  passers-by,  especially  in  the  day-time. 
And  yet  old  Robert  Graham,  as  he  slowly  walked 
along  one  of  these  solitary  thoroughfares — pre- 
tending to  saunter  idly  and  aimlessly,  indeed, 
as  if  he  had  only  wandered  hither  by  chance — 
had  a  keenly  apprehensive  look  in  his  deep-set 
eyes,  and  he  was  sharply  and  covertly  watching 
the  movements  of  every  human  being  within 
sight,  at  however  great  a  distance  he  or  she 
might  be.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  there  was  only 
one  person  who  could  by  any  possibility  be  a  spy 
on  him  ;  and  that  was  a  man  who,  slung  over  the 
side  of  a  big  schooner  lying  high  and  dry  on  the 
mud,  was  working  on  the  hull,  while  his  back 


A  CONSPIRACY  43 

was  turned  on  the  street,  and,  moreover,  he  was 
engaged  with  his  own  affairs,  hoarsely  singing 
the  while  some  dolorous  sailor  song. 

Twice  and  three  times  did  the  old  farmer 
slowly  walk  up  and  down  this  empty  street, 
though  well  he  knew  the  house  he  was  seeking, 
for  it  had  been  shown  him  the  evening  before, 
towards  dusk,  when  the  dim  light  in  the  window 
seemed  to  him  something  mysterious  and  awful, 
and  the  very  silence  around  unholy.  And  now, 
when  he  at  length  mustered  up  courage  to 
approach  the  door  that  his  eye  had  been 
stealthily  fixed  on  for  some  time  back,  there  was 
a  curious  sensation  of  dread  about  his  heart,  and 
the  hand  that  he  timidly  raised  to  the  rude  iron 
knocker  was  shaking  a  little,  though  he  did  not 
notice  that.  He  hesitated  but  for  a  second  ;  he 
rapped,  but  not  loudly ;  the  next  moment  the 
door  was  opened. 

A  tall,  thin,  gray-haired,  quiet,  and  respectable- 
looking  woman  stood  before  him,  regarding  him 
with  mild  and  melancholy  eyes.  She  carried  in 
her  hand  a  piece  of  sewing  ;  apparently  she  had 
been  at  work. 

"  Yes,  sir  ?  "  she  said  inquiringly ;  and,  mild 
and  melancholy  as  those  eyes  appeared,  they 


44  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

seemed  to  have  scrutinised  him  from  head  to 
foot  in  the  meanwhile. 

Mr.  Graham  was  rather  taken  aback.  Could 
this  quiet-looking  creature  be  one  of  the  two 
wise  women — the  spey-wives — that  foretold  the 
fortunes  of  the  young  lasses  about,  and  sold 
charms  to  sailors,  and  were  suspected  of  even 
darker  dealings  ?  He  had  expected  to  find  a 
couple  of  venomous  old  hags,  crouching  in  some 
dark  chimney-corner,  to  whom  he  could  at  once 
have  revealed  his  designs,  beseeching  their  aid 
to  rid  him  of  his  enemy.  However,  he  was  a 
little  bewildered,  and  a  little  frightened, — and 
at  length  he  managed  to  say  : 

"  Nancy  Lissom  ?  " 

"  That's  my  sister's  name,"  was  the  calm 
answer,  and  the  scrutiny  of  those  mild  but 
watchful  eyes  was  continued. 

"  I  want  to  see  her,"  he  said. 

"  The  poor  old  woman's  no  so  well  the  now," 
she  said  ;  "  I  would  rather  no  disturb  her." 

"  But  I  maun  see  her — it's  business — it's  im- 
portant," the  farmer  said,  rather  breathlessly. 

"  I  dinna  see  how  that  can  be,"  the  other  an- 
swered him.  "  It's  me  that  minds  the  house ; 
and  the  rent's  paid,  and  the  taxes,  and  the 


A  CONSPIRACY  45 

water,  and  everything ;  and  we  dinna  owe  a 
penny  to  any  living,  though  it's  a  hard  enough 
struggle  for  two  old  folk  like  her  and  me." 

"Bless  me,  woman,  I  ken  a'  about  you  and 
your  sister,"  said  he,  impatiently — for  he  did 
not  wish  to  be  seen  talking  at  this  door.  "  Let 
me  inside  the  house,  and  I'll  tell  ye  what  I 
want." 

"  Ye're  welcome  to  come  in,  sir,"  she  said,  and 
she  made  way  for  him  to  pass,  and  shut  the 
door  after  him ;  "  but  if  a'  the  magistrates  in 
Inverness  were  to  come  into  this  house  they 
would  find  nothing  wrong — only  two  old  wives 
making  but  a  scant  living  wi'  their  needle — ay, 
and  one  o'  them  getting  so  blind  now  that  she 
can  scarce  add  a  stitch." 

"  I'm  not  a  magistrate,"  said  he,  almost  under 
his  breath,  for  the  little  room  into  which  he  was 
ushered  seemed  strangely  quiet. 

And  indeed  there  was  no  suggestion  of  necro- 
mancy about  this  commonplace  little  apartment. 
It  was  just  such  another  as  one  might  have  ex- 
pected in  that  neighbourhood,  only  that  it  was 
cleanly  and  tidily  kept,  however  poor  and  plain 
the  furniture  might  be.  There  were  the  usual 
ornaments  on  the  mantelpiece — big  sea-shells, 


46  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

two  cheap  glass  vases  surmounted  each  with  a 
frill  of  green  paper,  and  one  or  two  photographs 
in  frames.  But  what  the  farmer  instantly 
noticed  was  that  on  the  little  table  at  the 
window,  where  the  family  Bible  ought  to  have 
been,  no  family  Bible  was  there ;  in  place  of 
that  there  was  merely  a  flower-pot,  with  some 
red  and  yellow  paper  flowers  in  it,  to  attract  the 
gaze  of  the  passer-by  without.  Then  he  turned 
to  the  melancholy-eyed  woman,  who  stood  calmly 
waiting  for  him  to  speak. 

"I  want  to  be  friends  wi'  ye,  and  wi'  your 
sister,"  said  he.  "  I'm  not  a  magistrate  at  all. 
I've  heard  o'  ye.  I've  come  here  to  ask  your 
help — ay,  and  I'll  pay  weel  for  it.  But  it  was 
Nancy  Lissom  I  was  told  to  ask  for." 

"My  sister's  in  there,"  the  woman  said, 
nodding  her  head  in  the  direction  of  a  door 
behind  him,  and  still  continuing  to  regard  him 
with  suspicion.  "  But  she's  a  poor  old  woman 
now,  that  can  scarce  talk  to  strangers.  And  if 
ye've  come  to  do  us  an  ill  turn,  sir,  I  wish  ye 
would  go  away  again.  We  harm  nobody.  We 
jist  want  to  be  let  alone " 

"  An  ill  turn,  ye  foolish  woman  ! "  he  said 
angrily  ;  and  then  he  instantly  altered  his  tone:: 


A  CONSPIRACY  47 

"  No,  no,  I  want  to  be  friends  wi'  ye ;  if  ye  can 
give  me  any  help,  I'll  make  it  worth  your  while. 
Look  here." 

He  took  out  from  his  breast-pocket  a  small 
parcel  of  £1  bank-notes — dark  and  dirty  as 
these  usually  are  in  the  country  districts  of 
Scotland — and,  selecting  two  of  them  from  the 
rest,  placed  them  open  on  the  table. 

"  There's  a  handsel,"  said  he. 

When  the  woman  saw  the  two  bank-notes 
lying  there,  her  eyes  contracted  like  the  eyes  of 
a  cat  about  to  spring,  and  instinctively  she  was 
about  to  seize  them.  But  then  she  paused. 
She  looked  at  him. 

"  Is  it  a  trap  ?  " 

She  went  quickly  to  the  window,  and,  as  well 
as  she  could,  glanced  up  and  down  the  street  to 
see  if  he  had  any  accomplice  waiting  without. 
There  was  no  one  there.  She  returned  to  the 
table,  and  took  up  the  notes,  and  said,  with  a 
kind  of  sigh — 

"  I'm  sure,  sir,  ye  wouldna  seek  to  harm  two 
poor  old  women,  and  one  o'  them  near  to  her 
death,  as  I'm  thinking.  But  nowadays  it's  a 
sin  and  an  outcry  if  ye  take  a  pack  o'  cards  and 
tell  a  lass  whether  her  sweetheart  is  to  be  dark 


48  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

or  fair.  Not  that  I  ken  anything  about  that,  or 
that  I  would  do  sic  a  thing  ;  but  come  in  and 
see  my  sister,  and  tell  her  what  your  business 
is  :  folk  call  her  a  wise  woman — but  what's  that  ? 
It's  just  that  she  has  the  skill  and  experience  o' 
a  long  life,  and  many  a  one  she  has  helped, 
though  many's  the  ill  name  that  both  o'  us  get 
in  return  for  it.  And  did  I  thank  ye  for  the 
money,  sir  ? — it's  a  poor  life  we  lead,  for  she's 
nearly  blind,  and  I'm  not  so  quick  with  the 
needle  as  I  was." 

She  opened  a  door  in  the  partition  severing 
the  lower  floor  of  the  house,  and  preceded  him 
into  the  back-room.  It  was  about  the  same 
size  as  the  one  in  front,  but  much  more  poorly 
furnished,  and  it  was  darker  also.  There  was  a 
small  fire  burning  in  the  grate,  though  it  was 
far  from  being  cold  weather  without ;  and  in  an 
easy-chair  by  the  side  of  the  fire  sate  a  little  old 
woman — older  than  her  sister,  and  whiter  of 
hair — who  was  wrapped  up  in  a  thick  shawl  and 
wore  on  her  head  an  old-fashioned  "  mutch." 

She  looked  startled,  and  even  frightened, 
when  she  saw  the  stranger,  and  quickly  turned 
to  her  sister. 

"  It's  a'  right,  Nancy/'  the  taller  woman  said. 


A  CONSPIRACY'  49 

"  The  gentleman  has  gi'en  me  a  good  hansel ;  and 
I'll  leave  him  to  tell  ye  his  business  himsel'." 

So  saying,  she  withdrew ;  and  then  the  inter- 
view on  which  the  old  farmer  had  staked  all  his 
vengeful  hopes  began.  And  at  first  it  proceeded 
slowly  enough  ;  for  the  little  old  woman — who 
seemed  to  have  remarkably  sharp  eyes,  con- 
sidering that  her  sister  had  said  she  was  nearly 
blind — would  admit  nothing ;  pretended  that  she 
only  gave  good  advice ;  then  admitted  that  she 
practised  a  little  harmless  forecasting  by  means 
of  cards ;  and  so  forth.  At  times,  the  farmer 
grew  angry ;  then,  fearing  to  offend  her,  would 
become  quite  humble  again  ;  and  finally  he  had 
recourse  to  further  money  persuasion.  The  fact 
was,  he  was  desperate.  If  they  could  not  help, 
who  could?  Would  he  have  to  part  with  his 
niece,  and  her  share  of  the  profits  of  the  farm  that 
he  had  held  back,  and  her  share  of  the  stock  as  it 
stood,  and  all  because  an  insolent  young  puppy 
had  chosen  to  interfere  ?  And  this  was  the  only 
way  of  meeting  him  ;  and  time  pressed ;  and 
why  would  this  old  woman — that  he  had  been 
assured  had  dark  and  mysterious  relations  with 
the  unseen  powers — prevaricate,  and  make  false 
assurances,  and  refuse  to  aid  him  ? 


50  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

But  this  further  bribe — though  the  parting 
with  these  two  pounds  was  like  rending  his 
heart  in  twain — prevailed,  and  the  little  old 
woman  rose  from  her  chair  and  hobbled  across 
the  apartment,  and  for  a  minute  or  two  was 
busy  in  a  small  cupboard  there.  When  she 
came  back  she  had  something  or  other  wrapped 
up  in  her  apron. 

"  Ay,  ay,"  said  she,  in  her  quavering  voice,  as 
she  sank  into  the  easy-chair  again  and  pretended 
to  keep  her  eyes  fixed  absently  on  the  fire,  "  if 
the  police  or  the  Fiscal  was  coming  he  would 
be  here  ere  now ;  and  it's  only  when  one  is 
sure  that  one  can  speak  out ;  and  it's  no  often 
nowadays,  when  there's  so  few  that  believes — 
there's  so  few  that  believes.  Well,  well,  [poor 
things,  maybe  it's  better  they  shouldna  ken 
what's  going  to  happen — what  use  is  it  to  them 
to  ken  beforehand  that  the  head  o7  the  house 
will  never  come  back  frae  sea,  or  that  the  bairn 
will  be  ta'en  from  them,  or  that  the  money  they 
hope  for  will  never  be  theirs  ?  And  if  they 
dinna  believe  that  harm  can  be  fended  off — 
weel,  weel,  they  must  suffer,  poor  things.  It 
wasna  so  once.  I  mind  the  days  when  folk 
were  glad  to  take  warning — ay,  and  to  pay 


A  CONSPIRACY  51 

for  the  warning — and  to  take  heed — and  guard 
themsels  against  the  ill  that  was  coming.  But 
there's  few  that  believe  nowadays,  and  a  poor 
old  wife  has  amaist  lost  the  secret  o't,  though  it's 
them  that's  nearest  the  grave  that  can  see  best." 
He  let  her  mumble  on,  apparently  to  herself ; 
for  partly  he  was  hoping  that  she  would  of  her- 
self come  to  the  mysterious  art  of  which  he  was 
in  quest ;  but  partly  also  because  he  was  a  little 
bit  overawed.  There  was  something  gruesome 
in  being  in  solitary  converse  with  a  reputed 
witch  ;  she  did  not  seem  to  heed  him  now  ;  she 
kept  her  eyes  on  the  smouldering  fire  as  if  she 
saw  things  there — shipwrecks,  funerals,  children 
crying,  women  sitting  and  moaning  alone. 
And  if  the  hope  in  his  heart  burnt  fiercer,  it 
also  made  him  afraid.  He  was  coming  close  to 
these  awful  and  unknown  influences  :  and  how 
might  they  not  affect  himself?  He  had  been 
most  propitiatory  to  this  old  woman  and  her 
sister — but,  after  all,  they  were  only  instru- 
ments. And  when  once  his  purpose  was  known, 
would  the  vague  powers  that  compassed  evil  and 
harm  be  on  his  side,  and  work  with  him  and  for 
him,  or  might  they  not  turn  against  him  and 
wither  him  with  their  malignant  craft  ? 

-E  2 


52  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

And  now  that  she  was  satisfied  he  did  not 
mean  to  betray  her — that  he  was  in  reality 
seeking  supernatural  aid,  and  willing  to  pay  for 
the  same — she  seemed  bent  on  convincing  him 
that  he  had  not  come  hither  in  vain. 

"  But  there's  no  many  now  that  care  to  be 
warned,"  she  continued,  still  vacantly  staring 
into  the  fire.  "  It  was  different  in  former  days. 
Maybe  ye've  heard  o'  Willox  the  Warlock  ?  " 

"  I  remember  the  name,  but  I  never  saw 
him/'  the  farmer  said,  and  the  very  sound  of  his 
own  voice  made  him  start,  so  intently  occupied 
had  he  been  with  his  fancies  and  his  fears. 

"  Poor  man,  he  died  in  'thirty- three.  I  mind 
him  weel.  Macgregor  was  his  real  name.  And 
do  ye  ken  what  gave  him  power  over  spirits- 
ay,  so  that  he  could  raise  a  storm  on  a  loch  and 
drown  a  boat  ere  ever  warning  could  reach 
them  ?  It  was  what  they  call  a  talisman  that 
had  been  handed  down  to  him  ;  and  this  was 
the  way  of  it.  In  former  days  there  was  a 
water-kelpie  in  Loch  Ness,  and  he  would  linger 
on  the  road  by  the  side  of  the  loch  in  the  shape 
of  a  fine  horse  all  saddled  and  bridled,  and 
when  some  tired  traveller  would  come  along  and 
fain  get  a  ride  for  a  mile  or  twa,  no  sooner  was 


A  CONSPIRACY  53 

he  in  the  saddle  than  down  into  the  loch  ran 
the  kelpie  and  drowned  him.  But  one  o'  the 
Macgregors  heard  o'  the  kelpie,  and  attacked 
him,  and  slashed  at  the  head  o'  the  horse  with 
his  claymore,  and  cut  away  the  end  o'  the  bridle 
and  a  piece  o1  the  bit ;  and  it  was  this  that  was 
handed  down  to  Willox  the  Warlock,  as  they 
called  him,  and  many  a  strange  thing  he  did 
wi'  it,  as  the  folk  will  tell  ye  till  this  day.  "Well, 
sir,  ye  hae  been  kind  to  two  poor  auld  women ; 
and  I'm  sure  ye're  no  in  league  with  the  police ; 
and  I'm  just  going  to  show  ye  that  very  talisman 
— that  was  well  known  in  this  countryside  when 
I  was  a  young  lass." 

She  opened  her  apron,  and  took  up  a  piece  of 
yellow  metal,  and  held  it  out  for  him  to  look  at. 
But  he  would  not  touch  it;  he  did  not  know 
what  subtle  power  it  might  yet  possess — and 
perhaps  for  evil  to  the  unwary. 

"  And  what  can  ye  do  with  that,  then  ?  "  he 
said,  almost  in  a  whisper  ;  and  he  had  a  sudden 
vision  of  Alec  Jameson,  and  of  a  storm,  just 
outside  Nairn  harbour,  and  of  a  sinking  ship, 
and  then  a  wide,  empty  sea,  with  darkness  and 
night  and  silence  coming  down  on  it. 

"  It's  no  much  that  I  can  do  wi'  that,"  said 


54  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

she  absently.  "The  day  has  gone  by.  The 
folk  dinna  believe  in  water-kelpies  now " 

"  Ay,  but  if  there  was  one  ready  to  believe  ? " 
said  he  eagerly.  "  What  then  ?  what  then, 
goodwife  ? " 

She  had  taken  from  her  lap  another  object — 
an  oblong  piece  of  crystal,  pierced  with  several 
holes. 

"  Here/'  she  said,  "  is  the  other  talisman  that 
Willox  the  Warlock  used,  and  maybe  there's 
more  to  be  done  wi'  that,  if  ye  would  learn 
what's  going  to  happen.  Ay,  there's  many 
a  strange  thing  has  been  seen  through  that 
glass — many  a  thing  that  has  come  true 
when  least  it  was  expected;  for  days  are  no 
more  than  hours,  and  years  no  more  than 
days,  when  ye  look  through  it.  Would  ye  like 
to  try  ? " 

Well,  this  was  not  what  he  came  for ;  but  he 
was  afraid  to  offend  her  ;  and  how  could  he  tell 
but  that  at  any  moment  she  might  suggest  the 
very  means  that  he  desired  ?  So  he  assented ; 
and  in  a  kind  of  half-mystified  way  he  saw  her 
go  and  fetch  a  bowl  of  clear  water,  which  she 
placed  in  front  of  the  fire. 

"Kneel  down,"  said  she,  "and  put  the  glass 


A  CONSPIRACY  55 

on  the  top  of  the  water,  and  tell  me  if  ye  see 
anything  on  the  bottom  of  the  bowl." 

He  would  rather  not  have  touched  the  piece 
of  crystal ;  but  on  the  other  hand,  he  did  not 
know  what  danger  he  might  incur  by  refusing  ; 
so  he  did  as  he  was  bid.  Of  course,  when  the 
crystal  was  interposed  between  the  glow  of  the 
fire  and  the  bowl  of  water,  there  were  shadows 
thrown  on  the  bottom  of  the  vessel,  and  sharper 
lights  where  the  holes  were  pierced ;  and  then 
again  these  seemed  to  move,  for  he  did  not  him- 
self know  that  his  hand  was  so  trembling  and 
unsteady. 

"If  it's  waves,"  she  said  slowly,  and  her 
eyes  could  now  watch  him  unseen,  "  it's  a 
voyage." 

There  was  no  answer ;  he  was  puzzling  over 
those  mysterious  shadows,  and  too  perturbed  to 
make  a  definite  guess. 

"  If  it's  trees "  she  continued. 

"Ay,  it's  more  like  trees,  I'm  thinking,"  he 
muttered. 

"  If  it's  trees,  it's  a  kirk-yaird,"  she  said. 

He  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"A kirk-yaird — for  whom  ? "  he  cried,  perfectly 


56  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

But  the  old  woman  took  no  notice  of  this 
sudden  fright. 

"  How  can  I  tell  that,"  said  she,  in  the  same 
calm  voice,  "  until  I  hear  what  it  is  ye  want  to 
learn  ?  Indeed,  I'll  do  my  best  for  ye,  sir, 
though  there's  nothing  sure — there's  nothing 
sure.  But  yeVe  been  a  good  friend  to  us  this 
day— I'll  do  my  best." 

Here,  then,  was  the  opportunity  he  wanted ; 
and  he  strove  to  collect  himself.  He  reverently 
placed  the  piece  of  crystal  and  the  bowl  on  the 
table — for,  although  fortune-telling  was  not 
what  he  was  after,  still,  these  things  might 
work  mischief — and  then  he  began  his  story. 
Truth  to  say,  it  was  a  very  transparent  fabrica- 
tion. It  needed  no  witch  to  tell  that  he  was 
speaking  of  himself  and  his  own  affairs.  The 
story  was  of  a  farmer  dwelling  in  a  certain  place, 
who  lived  soberly  and  discreetly,  trying  to  do 
his  best  by  the  farm,  and  saving  up  every  penny 
that  he  could  save.  And  why  ?  Because  he 
had  a  niece  who  in  the  ordinary  course  of  nature 
would  fall  heir  to  the  property.  But  was  she 
content  with  that  ?  No.  The  idle  hussy  must 
needs  take  up  with  a  harum-scarum  young  sailor 
fellow ;  and  now  he  was  for  taking  her  away  from 


A  CONSPIRACY  57 

the  house  ;  and  he  was  going  to  the  lawyers  to 
make  the  farmer  hand  over  all  that  was  due  to 
her  (though  that  had  mostly  been  expended  in 
the  bringing  of  her  up),  and  also  the  value  of 
her  share  in  the  stock,  no  doubt.  And  not  only 
that,  but  this  impudent  rascal  of  a  sailor  had 
challenged  the  farmer  to  fight,  and  had  miscalled 
him,  and  would  have  lashed  him  with  a  horse- 
whip, but  that  the  whip  broke  in  his  hands. 
And  could  she  wonder,  he  asked  eagerly,  if  he 
wanted  to  baffle  the  intentions  of  this  robber  and 
plunderer — ay,  and  take  vengeance  on  him  for 
his  threats  and  his  scorn  ?  And  was  there  no  way 
of  doing  that  ?  The  farmer  would  pay,  he  said  ; 
oh  yes,  he  would  pay  when  the  work  was  done. 
Hardly  as  he  had  earned  every  penny  of  his 
savings,  he  would  do  much  to  save  his  niece 
from  becoming  the  slave  of  such  a  scoundrel. 

"  That,  now,"  he  said,  fixing  his  eyes  on  the 
piece  of  yellow  metal  that  lay  in  her  hand, 
"  could  not  that  work  him  a  mischief?  " 

"I'm  no  sure  about  that/'  she  answered. 
"  There's  other  ways — ay,  there's  other  ways  o' 
working  a  harm,  if  it  was  safe  to  do  it.  But  I 
maun  have  the  name  o'  the  farmer  and  o'  the 
young  sailor-lad,"  she  added. 


58  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

"Surely  that's  no  needfu'?"  he  said,  rather 
drawing  back. 

"  Indeed,  but  it  is,"  she  said  doggedly. 

He  was  loth  to  compromise  himself  so  far,  but 
on  the  other  hand,  being  apparently  so  near 
the  accomplishment  of  his  wishes,  and  having 
risked  so  much  already,  he  could  not  think  of 
giving  up. 

"  Graham/'  said  he,  with  evident  timidity, 
"  that  is  the  farmer's  name,  and  the  sailor  fellow's 
Jameson." 

At  the  mention  of  the  latter  name  there  was  a 
sudden  little  twitch  of  the  old  woman's  eyes,  which 
he  did  not  notice,  and  she  slowly  said  to  him : 

"But  his  other  name?  I  mean  the  sailor- 
lad's." 

"  Oh,  that's  Alec,"  he  said  ;  he  had  less  scruple 
about  giving  her  that  information. 

"  And  it's  him  that  wants  the  young  lass  with 
the  money  ? "  she  said,  with  a  quick  glance  at  him. 

Then  she  resumed  her  absent  staring  into  the 
fire  again.  He  remained  regarding  her  in  silence. 
He  guessed  that  she  was  devising  sure  and 
certain  means  for  the  destruction  of  his  enemy, 
and  would  not  interfere. 

"  It's  dangerous  work,"  she  said,  at  length. 


A  CONSPIRACY  59 

"  Ay,  but  when  it's  done  it  will  be  well  paid 
for,"  said  he  eagerly.  "  Can  ye  do  it — can  ye 
do  it,  goodwife  ?  Can  ye  bring  something  upon 
him  ?  Or  can  ye  whisper  them  that  can — some- 
thing quick  and  sudden,  now,  ere  he  gets  time 
to  go  to  the  lawyers?  I  tell  ye,  the  lass  is 
talking  o'  leaving  the  farm  at  once,  and  together 
they'll  be  at  the  lawyers;  haste  ye  to  think 
now,  can  ye  make  something  befall  him — some- 
thing sharp  and  sudden,  that  will  end  him  for 
ever  ?  It  was  a  kirk-yaird  I  saw  in  the  bowl, 
I'm  sure  o't — trees  and  bushes  it  was  that  I  saw 
— a  kirk-yaird  it  was — and  was  that  for  him, 
goodwife  ?  " 

She  seemed  to  pay  but  little  heed  to  his 
malignant  vehemence.  For  a  little  while  she 
sate  perfectly  silent  and  apparently  absorbed. 
And  then  she  said,  slowly — 

"  There's  the  old  and  the  sure  way,  if  ye  are 
daring  enough  to  do  it." 

"  What  is't— what  is't  ? "  he  said  quickly. 

She  looked  up  again. 

"  Are  ye  so  hard  set  against  the  lad  ? " 

"Wife,  wife,  ye  dinna  understand  what  he 
threatens  to  me  and  mine ! "  he  exclaimed,  but 
in  a  low  voice.  "  Tell  me  what's  to  be  done  and 


60  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

leave  the  rest  to  me.  And  quick,  quick,  it 
maun  be — ere  the  scoundrel  gets  to  the  lawyers." 

Inadvertently  he  had  confessed  that  he  him- 
self was  the  farmer  of  his  imaginary  story ;  but 
she  knew  that  already. 

"  It's  the  old  and  the  sure  way,"  she  repeated, 
in  the  same  slow  fashion.  "Ye  take  a  wax 
image,  and  ye  make  ready  a  big  fire,  and  ye  put 
the  image  before  the  fire,  and  when  it  begins  to 
melt,  sickness  strikes  at  his  heart.  Ay,  and  he 
pines  and  he  pines,  and  no  one  can  tell  what  is 
the  matter  with  him ;  and  on  the  second  day  ye 
put  the  image  to  the  fire  again,  and  ye  begin 
to  stick  needles  into  it,  and  with  every  needle 

ye  say, 

'Fire  burn,  fire  stew, 
Another  knife  I  stick  in  you,' 

until  the  image  is  finished  :  ay,  and  when  that's 
finished,  the  man's  finished,  and  it's  the  kirk- 
yaird  then  for  him,  and  a  cold  stone  at  his 
head." 

"And  the  wax  image — where  could  one  get 
that,  goodwife  ? "  said  he,  almost  in  a  whisper. 

She  regarded  him. 

"  Come  here  to-night  at  nine  o'clock  to  the 
minute,  and  it  will  be  ready  for  ye,"  she 


A  CONSPIRACY  61 

answered.  "  And  mind  ye  let  no  one  see  your 
coming  in  or  your  going  out ;  for  it's  compass- 
ing a  man's  life,  and  what  does  that  mean,  if  it's 
found  out,  but  the  gallows  ? " 

He  started,  for  there  almost  seemed  a  menace 
in  her  tone ;  but  surely  she  was  as  much  impli- 
cated as  he  himself  was  ?  However,  he  promised 
to  be  there  punctually  at  nine  that  evening,  in 
the  utmost  secrecy ;  and  so  he  got  out  of  the 
house  and  into  the  quiet  little  thoroughfare. 
As  he  made  his  way  back  to  the  busier  parts  of 
the  town,  the  white  daylight  around  seemed  to 
have  a  bewildering  effect  on  his  eyes ;  and  his 
heart  was  darkened  with  a  nameless  dread  ;  and 
his  brain  was  busy  trying  to  recall  the  ghastly 
incantation  he  was  to  use  when  he  put  the 
waxen  image  of  his  enemy  before  the  sharp 
flames. 


62.          THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 


CHAPTEK  IV. 

THE  WORKING  OF  THE  CHARM. 

TOWARDS  nine  o'clock  that  night  the  moon  was 
not  yet  over  the  chimney-tops,  and  this  little 
thoroughfare  that  he  sought  with  stealthy  step 
and  anxious  look  was  dark  and  solitary  enough. 
And  well  he  wished  himself  out  of  Inverness, 
and  back  home;  at  Fasslie  he -could  take  safe 
and  leisurely  precautions  to  avoid  observation ; 
here  he  knew  not  what  silent  foot  might  be 
following  him,  what  unseen  eye  might  be  upon 
him,  nor  yet  what  fell  enchantment  might  not 
be  hovering  around  this  very  house  that  he  was 
about  to  visit.  He  was  a  little  before  the 
appointed  time ;  he  walked  round  by  the  quay, 
and  back  again ;  and  ever  his  attention  was 
fixed  on  that  particular  window,  where  a  dull 
red  light  shone.  What  was  it  that  made  that 
light  look  baleful  and  sinister  ?  He  wished  this 


THE  WORKING  OF  THE  CHARM  63 

business  was  over,  and  himself  back  at  Fasslie 
Farm. 

So  far  as  lie  could  perceive,  he  was  quite" 
unobserved  as  he  finally  went  up  to  the  house, 
tapped  lightly,  and  was  admitted.  Not  a  word 
was  spoken  by  the  taller  of  the  two  women,  who 
received  him  as  on  the  previous  occasion ;  she 
merely  opened  the  door  of  the  back  room,  and 
shut  it  behind  him  when  he  had  entered.  Then 
the  next  moment  his  startled  glance  fell  upon 
something  that  was  lying  there  on  the  table — 
something  that  made  him  shiver,  though  he  had 
never  seen  the  like  before ;  for  the  waxen  image 
that  lay  amongst  some  cotton  fitted  into  a  small 
box,  however  rudely  it  may  have  been  fashioned, 
seemed  to  him  like  a  corpse,  and  to  have  the 
cold,  clammy,  clayey  look  of  a  corpse.  He 
turned  to  the  old  woman,  dreading  to  find  her 
eyes  fixed  on  him  and  reading  alike  his  desires 
and  his  fears  ;  but  her  face  was  away  from  him  ; 
she  was  staring  blankly  into  the  fire. 

"  Ay,  and  what  now,  good  wife  ? "  said  he  pre- 
tending not  to  have  seen  that  ghastly  object 
lying  there. 

"  It's  ready  for  ye,"  said  she,  and  she  turned 
and  glanced  at  the  table.  "  There  is  that  will 


64  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

make  a  sick  man  of  him,  and  syne  a  dead  man. 
Ay,  that's  the  sure  way ;  surer  than  the  talisman 
that  Willox  the  Warlock  cut  frae  the  kelpie's 
mouth." 

"  And  when  will  it  begin  to  work,  goodwife  ? " 
said  he  anxiously.  "  Maybe  he's  in  Inverness  at 
this  minute,  maybe  he'll  no  wait  for  the  young 
lass  to  come  from  the  farm,  maybe  he'll  go  to 
the  lawyers  and  make  mischief  ere  he  can  be 
stopped.  When  will  it  begin  to  work,  tell  me ; 
when  will  he  fall  ill  ? " 

"  As  soon  as  ever  that  wax  is  put  to  the  low, 
and  begins  to  melt,"  said  she,  "  then  the  sickness 
will  strike  into  him.  It's  a  dreadfu'  thing  to 
think  of — a  young  man  in  the  prime  and  health 
o'  life- 

"  Ay,  but  such  a  rascal  as  ye  ne'er  heard  o'," 
said  he  eagerly,  for  he  did  not  wish  her  to  repent 
of  her  connivance  ;  perhaps  she  might  recall  the 
charm  at  the  last  moment.  "  I  tell  ye,  ye  do 
well  to  work  harm  on  such  a  worthless  mis- 
chievous fellow — ay,  a  rascal  that  would  rob  an 
old  man,  and  steal  away  a  lass  from  her  proper 
home,  and  seek  to  get  hold  o'  her  money  to 
spend  it  on  riotous  living.  Na,  na,  dinna  fash 
your  head  about  that,  goodwife ;  he  deserves  all 


THE  WORKING  OF  THE  CHARM      65 

hell   get,    and   mair.      It's   a   good    job   ye've 
done." 

And  then  he  turned  to  the  table,  and  regarded 
the  rudely-shaped  little  effigy. 

"  And  maun  I  keep  it  at  the  fire  melting  and 
melting  to  the  end  ?  "  said  he,  for  now  that  the 
means  were  within  his  reach,  he  seemed  im- 
patient to  begin. 

"  No,  no,"  she  answered  him.  "  Three  days 
must  go  by,  and  if  at  the  end  o'  the  third  day 
it's  no  a'  melted  away,  then  into  the  fire  wi't— 
poor  young  fellow,  that  will  be  his  death-hour." 

"  But  when  I  take  away  the  wax  frae  the  fire, 
will  the  illness  stop  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,  no ;  when  ye  take  the  wax  frae  the  fire, 
it  will  harden  ;  but  when  once  a  man  is  struck 
with  a  pining,  that  holds  him — ay,  until  it's 
time  for  the  tramp  o'  the  coffin-men  to  be  heard 
on  the  stair." 

"  And  no  matter  where  he  is,  will  this  reach 
him  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Ay,  whether  he  is  on  sea  or  land — far  or 
near — in  a  rich  man's  house  or  a  poor — when 
the  wax  is  put  to  the  low,  then  the  pining  and 
wasting  begins,  and  every  time  ye  put  a  needle 
into  the  wax,  that  is  a  pain  going  through  his 

V 


66  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

heart.  Bethink  ye,  sir,  what  ye  are  doing,  and 
spare  him  if  ye  can.  My  sister  and  me,  we're 
poor  folk ;  and  it's  ill  to  get  a  living  in  such 
hard  times  as  these ;  and  I'm  sure  we  would 
rather  keep  to  the  sewing,  if  my  eyes  were  no 
so  bad.  It's  no  my  own  will  that  I  would 
meddle  wi'  such  things  as  that.  I  wouldna 
harm  a  living  soul." 

He  seemed  to  pay  no  heed  to  these  pleadings, 
except  in  so  far  as  they  tended  to  confirm  his 
belief  in  the  deadly  power  of  this  instrument 
she  had  made  for  him ;  and  now — but  with 
rather  uncertain  fingers — he  had  taken  the  box 
up  in  his  hand. 

"But  what's  this,  goodwife?"  he  said  sud- 
denly. "  What  colour  is  this  box  ?  Green, 
surely  ?  Ay,  that  will  never  do  at  a'.  Ye'll 
have  to  get  me  another  box  ;  there'll  be  no 
good-luck  to  me  or  mine  if  I  take  aught  o'  that 
colour  into  the  house.  Bless  me,  it's  a  wonder 
I  noticed  it  in  candle-light." 

"  There's  not  another  box  o'  the  kind,  but  or 
ben,"  said  she. 

"Well,  well,"  said  he,  "  I'll  take  it  wi'  me  as 
it  is,  and  get  another  ere  I  set  out  for  home  in 
the  morning ; "  and  with  that  he  put  the  lid  on, 


THE  WORKING  OF  THE  CHARM  6; 

and  tied  a  bit  of  string  round  it,  and  was  ready 
to  go. 

"  But  ye're  no  leaving  us  that  way,"  said  she, 
with  a  kind  of  feeble,  whining  remonstrance, 
"  after  a'  our  trouble  ?  We're  poor,  poor  folk, 
my  sister  and  me  ;  and  what  wi'  the  police  and 
the  Fiscal  and  the  neighbours  spying  on  us,  and 
glad  to  say  an  ill  word  when  they  can,  it's  a 
hard  struggle  to  live.  And  this  practising  on  a 
man's  life,  that  we  risk  the  gallows  by — is  that 
not  to  be  paid  for  ? " 

"  But  I've  given  ye  four  pounds,  woman  !  "  he 
said  angrily. 

And  then  he  quickly  bethought  him  that  this 
was  not  the  tone  in  which  to  address  one  who 
might  turn  these  very  powers  against  himself. 

"  But  dinna  let's  quarrel,"  said  he.  "  No,  no. 
See,  here's  another  :  that's  five,  and  a  good 
day's  wage.  But  it's  not  five,  but  twice  five, 
yell  have  from  me  when  this  work's  done.  Ten 
pounds  will  I  give  ye  on  that  day  ;  just  mind 
that  now,  and  ye'll  be  looking  forrit  to  the  end 
as  eager  as  I  am  mysel'.  And  so  good-night  to 
ye,  goodwife ;  and  just  keep  a  quiet  tongue 
in  your  head  about  this  affair  until  I  see  ye 
again." 

F  2 


68  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

And  so  he  got  him  out  of  the  house,  and  stole 
quietly  away  back  to  the  inn  where  he  was 
lodging.  There  he  succeeded  in  getting  a  box 
something  of  the  same  size  as  the  green  one  ; 
and  when  he  had  transferred  to  it  the  deadly 
instrument  that  was  to  work  woe  on  his  enemy, 
he  felt  more  at  ease.  And  late  into  the  night 
he  sate  up  in  his  solitary  little  room,  wondering 
at  what  hour  of  the  following  evening  he  would 
begin  to  melt  the  wax  figure,  and  wondering 
where  'Alec  Jameson  would  be  when  first  he 
should  find  himself  smitten  with  that  strange 
sickness.  Compunction,  remorse,  hesitation,  he 
had  none.  He  was  all  too  anxious  to  strike. 
Not  only  revenge  for  the  past  but  regard  for  his 
own  safety  in  the  future  goaded  him  on.  And 
how  could  any  one  call  it  murder  when  he  but 
melted  a  doll  at  a  fire — as  any  child  might  do  ? 
If  there  were  maleficent  beings  who  would 
make  that  the  occasion  for  working  a  man's 
bane,  he  knew  them  not.  But  if  these  invisible 
powers  befriended  him  now,  as  they  had  be- 
friended him  in  times  past,  surely  he  would  be 
grateful  to  them,  though  he  might  never  know 
how  to  call  them  by  their  name  ?  The  old 
woman,  too  :  he  would  establish  friendly  re- 


THE  WORKING  OF  THE  CHARM  69 

lations  with  her ;  it  was  better-  to  be  safe  with 
every  one  all  round. 

He  reached  home  the  following  afternoon,  and 
he  was  unusually  civil  to  his  niece — but  in  a 
suspicious,  watchful  way — when  that  he  chanced 
to  meet  her  about  the  house.  Again,  as  they 
sate  down  to  supper  in  the  evening,  he  said, 
with  an  appearance  of  good-humour  : 

"  Well,  now,  if  ye  have  any  sense,  lass,  ye'll 
change  your  mind  about  leaving  Fasslie." 

"  And  indeed,  uncle,"  she  said,  "it  is  no  wish 
of  mine  that  I  should  leave  Fasslie — at  least, 
not  the  now ;  and  if  I  have  to  go,  it  will  be 
with  no  great  gladness." 

"  But  who  can  make  ye  go  if  ye  dinna  want 
to  go  ? "  he  said  eagerly.  "  Think  o't,  lass  ; 
think  o'  the  chances  o'  life,  and  you  going  out 
to  face  them  by  yoursel'.  Yes,  by  yoursel' ;  for 
what  better  is  a  sailor's  wife  than  a  left  widow 
woman  when  he's  away  at  sea  ?  Ay,  and  the 
chances  o'  storms  and  shipwrecks — think  o'  that, 
and  you  living  by  yoursel'  and  waiting  and 
waiting.  That's  a  terrible  life  for  a  young  lass 
to  lead.  Here  ye've  a  comfortable  home,  where 
your  father's  name  is  still  weel  kenned  in  the 
countryside  ;  and  there's  friends  for  ye  in  time 


70  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

o'  trouble ;  and  ye  can  see  that  everything 
that's  done  to  better  the  house  or  the  buildings 
or  the  farm,  that's  a'  being  done  for  what  is 
your  own — or  for  what  will  be  your  own  when  I 
am  taken.  It's  a  sad  thing  to  see  a  young  lass 
beguiled  and  led  away  from  her  own  folk — 
where  she  has  everything  and  no  trouble — and 
to  see  her  going  out  to  face  the  world  by  hersel', 
among  strangers  that  ken  nothing  about  her 
or  hers,  and  will  swindle  her,  or  misca'  her,  or 
cheat  her,  whenever  they  get  the  chance.  It's 
a  sad,  sad  thing  to  see  ;  and  I  never  thought  it 
would  be  you,  Ailie,  lass." 

He  had  never  spoken  like  this  to  her  before. 
Ordinarily  he  was  querulous,  dissatisfied,  com- 
plaining, in  his  manner  towards  her,  and  often- 
times downright  ill-tempered,  dictatorial,  and 
brutal.  And  for  a  second  or  two  this  plausible 
reasoning  and  the  apparent  friendliness  of  his 
tone  rather  bewildered  her ;  but  presently  she 
said  : 

"  It's  too  late  to  think  o1  that,  uncle.  I  have 
given  my  word  to  Alec  Jameson,  and  I'm  not 
going  to  take  it  back." 

"  It's  never  too  late  to  mend  an  error,"  said 
he — and  he  was  watching  her  with  some  eager- 


THE  WORKING  OF  THE  CHARM  71 

ness,  as  if  he  expected  to  see  some  sign  of 
yielding  in  her  face. 

"  And  as  for  being  a  sailor's  wife,"  she 
continued,  "  I  suppose  every  one  has  some 
trouble.  Besides,  it  will  not  be  so  bad  when 
Alec  is  made  captain,  and  then  I  can  go  a 
voyage  with  him  from  time  to  time." 

"  And  who  is  going  to  make  him  captain  ?  " 
he  said  scornfully. 

"  They  would  make  him  now,"  she  answered 
simply,  "  if  only  he  had  money  to  buy  a  fifth 
share  in  the  Princess  Mary" 

Instantly  his  face  changed,  and  there  was  a 
savage  gleam  from  under  the  bushy  eyebrows. 

"Ay,  ay,  there  again — it's  money  he's  after, 
as  well  I  kenned,"  he  said  between  his  teeth. 
"Money  to  buy  a  fifth  share  in  the  Princess 
Mary !  "Well,  well,  what's  going  to  be  will  be." 

Apparently  he  was  trying  to  conceal  his 
anger.  He  remained  silent  for  some  little 
while,  busying  himself  with  his  supper.  Then 
he  said,  in  quite  a  conciliatory  way  : 

"  Ailie,  lass,  do  ye  think  they  could  light  a 
fire  for  me  in  the  safe-room  ?  " — for  so  he  had 
chosen  to  designate  the  room  in  which  he  had 
placed  the  iron  chest. 


72  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  said  she,  "  it's  many  a  day  since 
there  was  a  fire  in  that  room,  but  I  dare  say  the 
chimney  will  draw  well  enough." 

"As  soon  as  ye've  finished,  then,  just  bid  the 
lasses  light  a  fire  there,"  said  he — "  ay,  and  a 
good  blazing  fire  ;  for  I  have  papers  and  things 
to  burn." 

"Very  well,  uncle,"  she  said;  and,  as  she  had 
just  then  finished  supper,  she  went  away  to  do 
as  she  was  bid. 

It  did  not  occur  to  him  as  unnecessarily  and 
wantonly  cruel  to  ask  a  young  girl  to  go  and 
get  ready  a  fire  for  the  slow  burning  of  her 
lover's  effigy ;  his  thoughts  were  elsewhere ;  he 
was  trying  to  guess  where  Alec  Jameson  might 
be  at  this  moment,  now  that  this  fell  disease  was 
about  to  strike  at  his  vitals.  In  a  public-house 
making  merry?  Or  on  board  the  Princess 
Mary,  wondering  when  he  was  to  become  cap- 
tain ?  Or  perhaps  deciding  as  to  which  of  the 
lawyers  he  would  go  to  on  the  following  day  ? 
Anyhow,  for  him,  and  his  mischief-making,  and 
his  insolent  designs,  there  had  come  an  end. 

It  was  Alison  herself  who  came  to  announce 
that  the  fire  was  lit  and  burning  well.  He  went 
away  and  got  a  pair  of  iron  pincers  ;  then  he 


THE  WORKING  OF  THE  CHARM  73 

sought  out  the  little  chamber,  and  shut  himself 
in,  locking  the  door  behind  him.  Outside  the 
world  was  growing  white  with  the  moonlight, 
the  sea  was  distinctly  visible,  and  the  far  and 
dusky  line  of  coast  under  the  clear,  still  heavens  ; 
and  so,  for  some  reason  or  another,  he  went  to 
the  window  and  closed  the  shutters  and  barred 
them.  Then  he  lit  the  solitary  candle  that  was 
standing  on  the  mantelshelf.  After  a  hard 
struggle  he  managed  to  open  the  big  iron  chest. 
He  took  therefrom  the  little  box  he  had  de- 
posited there  for  safety  in  the  afternoon  ;  and 
presently  the  wax  effigy  was  in  the  firm  grip  of 
the  pincers.  He  went  to  the  fire.  The  flames 
were  burning  merrily  now.  And  then,  after  a 
moment's  hesitation,  he  thrust  the  wax  in  front 
of  the  hot  red  glow. 

All  this  he  had  done  as  one  in  a  dream.  It 
was  not  of  these  mechanical  appliances  he  was 
thinking  ;  it  was  of  the  effect  of  this  incantation, 
as  it  would  now  be  happening  many  a  mile  away. 
Had  the  pain  begun  ?  Or  was  it  only  a  feverish 
heat  he  felt  as  yet,  and  a  sickness  ?  And  were 
the  maleficent  spirits  at  work — hovering  over 
the  house  where  he  was,  and  chuckling,  maybe, 
and  laughing  over  their  devilish  trade  ?  Did 


74  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

the  old  woman  know  what  was  going  on  ?  Per- 
haps she  could  help  ?  He  had  left  her  in  a 
friendly  mood  ;  she  had  everything  to  hope  for ; 
thwarting  him  would  not  serve  her  turn  ;  aiding 
him  would  be  to  her  own  advantage.  And 
Alison  would  still  remain  at  Fasslie ;  and  the 
money,  and  bonds,  and  railway  shares,  would 
be  untouched  and  his  own  ;  and  no  longer  would 
the  nights  be  full  of  fears  as  to  what  the  lawyers 
in  Inverness  might  do. 

But  this  wax  image  seemed  hard  and  cold  and 
impenetrable.  It  did  not  seem  to  melt.  And 
was  the  fire  not  yet  beginning  to  pierce  him  ? 
Perhaps  the  favouring  unseen  powers  and  in- 
fluences were  waiting — were  impatient — might 
go  away  ?  And  so  he  held  the  effigy  closer  and 
closer  to  the  bars,  until  it  almost  touched  the 
coals.  A  drop  fell — and  another — and  another 
—and  he  began  to  tremble  and  his  head  to 
swim,  for  that  they  looked  so  like  blood.  And 
then,  in  a  half-dazed  way,  he  rather  withdrew 
the  wax  from  the  heat.  The  melting  was  to  be 
done  thrice  ;  too  fierce  and  sudden  a  sickness, 
killing  a  man  at  once,  might  provoke  suspicion. 
And  so  he  withdrew  the  image  somewhat, 
suffering  it  to  harden  again,  and  yet  gradually. 


THE  WORKING  OF  THE  CHARM  75 

No  matter  if  it  were  hardened  quite  and  cold  ; 
the  pain  had  struck;  the  disease  would  work 
now  ;  his  enemy  was  disposed  of. 

And  yet  he  was  not  altogether  satisfied.  Why 
should  a  few  minutes'  torture  imperil  a  man's 
life  ?  Perhaps  he  had  been  too  hasty  in  with- 
drawing the  image  from  the  fire  ?  And  then, 
again,  although  the  wise  woman  had  instructed 
him  to  pierce  the  wax  with  needles  on  the 
second  day  of  the  melting,  what  harm  could 
there  be  in  putting  in  one  now,  just  to  make 
assurance  doubly  sure  ?  So  he  held  the  effigy 
to  the  flames  again,  but  not  too  near,  until 
the  wax  grew  soft ;  and  then,  under  his  breath, 
and  with  a  malignant  emphasis  that  showed 
how  profoundly  he  believed  in  the  baleful 
efficacy  of  the  charm,  he  repeated  the  words — 

"Fire  burn,  fire  stew, 
This  first  knife  I  stick  in  you," 

and  drove  the  point  of  the  needle  into  the  upper 
part  of  the  image,  about  where  the  heart  of  a 
man  would  be.  A  further  drop  or  two  of  the 
wax  fell  on  the  hearthstone — more  like  blood 
than  ever,  as  it  appeared  to  him.  But  he  was 
satisfied  now.  The  mischief  was  begun.  His 


76  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

unknown   friends   could   not   complain   of  any 
want  of  thoroughness  on  his  part. 

When  he  had  replaced  the  now  shrunken 
image  in  the  box,  and  placed  that  again  in  the 
iron  chest,  and  locked  the  same,  he  blew  out  the 
candle,  and  made  his  way  back  to  the  parlour. 
Here  he  found  Alison  and  the  servant  lasses 
assembled  for  family  worship,  that  being  the 
custom  of  the  house  ;  and  there  was  the  big 
chair  drawn  in  to  the  table,  and  the  family  Bible 
lying  open.  His  first  duty  was  to  read  a 
chapter,  and  he  began  to  do  so  at  once,  but  in 
a  mechanical  fashion,  for  he  could  not  keep  his 
thoughts  from  going  back  to  the  little  chamber, 
and  the  red  fire,  and  the  needle,  and  the  drops 
falling  like  blood  on  the  hearthstone.  This 
was  the  23d  Chapter  of  the  Book  of  Numbers 
he  was  reading  ;  and  he  had  come  upon  it  quite 
fortuitously  ;  for  the  practice  of  the  house  was 
to  go  steadily  through  the  Bible,  from  end  to 
end,  one  chapter  a  night.  And  yet  as  he  read 
of  Balak  the  King  of  Moab,  who  would  have  a 
curse  fall  upon  Israel,  and  how  Balaam  was 
constrained  to  bless  the  people,  his  mind  was 
haunted  with  misgivings  ;  and  then  came  the 
verse  :  "  Surely  there  is  no  enchantment  against 


THE  WORKING  OF  THE  CHARM    77 

Jacob,  neither  is  there  any  divination  against 
Israel  :  according  to  this  time  it  shall  be  said  of 
Jacob  and  of  Israel,  What  hath  God  wrought !  " 
But  the  mechanical  reading  came  to  an  end ; 
then  he  gave  out  the  psalm 

"  They  in  the  Lord  that  firmly  trust 

Shall  be  like  Sion  hill, 
Which  at  no  time  can  be  removed 

But  standeth  ever  still. 
As  round  about  Jerusalem 

The  mountains  stand  alway, 
The  Lord  his  folk  doth  compass  so, 

From  henceforth  and  for  aye  " — 

and  they  sang  that  to  the  plaintive  tune  of 
"  Martyrdom,"  Alison  leading  ;  and  then  Alison 
and  the  girls  went,  and  he  was  left  alone. 

There  was  something  disquieting  in  that 
chapter,  however  perfunctorily  he  had  read  out 
the  verses ;  and  now,  as  he  sate  in  the  big  arm- 
chair, plunged  in  a  profound  reverie,  he  tried 
to  recall  them.  And  what  was  it  that  had 
caused  the  curse  of  Balaam  to  fail  ?  What  had 
changed  it  into  a  blessing  ?  Surely  the  fact  that 
the  children  of  Israel  were  under  the  special 
protection  of  the  Almighty,  who  had  interfered 
with  the  ordinary  course  of  nature  on  their 
behalf. 


78          THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

"  And  it  was  long  ago,"  he  continued  to 
reason  with  himself,  in  these  half  disconnected 
musings,  "  and  it  was  in  another  part  of  the 
world  altogether.  But,  long  ago  as  it  was,  long 
before  that  there  were  the  other  powers,  in  the 
glens  and  among  the  hills  and  by  the  lochs,  and 
who  has  put  them  away  ?  Before  ever  the 
children  of  Israel  were  brought  out  of  Egypt  the 
kelpies  were  in  every  water  in  Scotland ;  and 
the  underground  people  in  every  lonely  mound 
and  hillock ;  and  spirits  in  every  wood  and  glen, 
and  on  every  wide  untenanted  moor  :  who 
can  think  that  they  have  all  been  destroyed? 
Balaam's  curse  was  turned  into  a  blessing — but 
that  was  in  another  land,  and  the  Lord  was 
working  miracles  from  day  to  day  on  behalf  of  a 
particular  people.  But  that  was  all  over  now  ; 
and  here  in  Scotland  the  mysterious  powers  that 
dwelt  in  earth  and  air  and  water  were  allowed  to 
work  their  will,  as  thousands  upon  thousands  of 
stories  testified.  And  who  was  Alec  Jameson, 
that  any  interference  should  be  made  on  his 
behalf?  A  common  sailor,  that  might  lose  his 
life  to-morrow  or  next  day  by  stumbling  over 
the  edge  of  a  quay,  or  falling  down  a  stair,  and 
the  world  pay  no  heed  at  all.  No,  no ;  there 


THE  WORKING  OF  THE  CHARM  79 

could  be  no  interference  in  his  case.  There  were 
reasons  for  miracles  in  former  days,  when  there 
was  a  whole  nation  to  save ;  but  this  was  merely 
a  sailor  lad  in  Inverness ;  who  was  to  interfere 
to  save  him  ?  And  already  the  fire  was  kindled 
— the  consuming  fire — that  was  to  eat  through 
him,  and  wither  him,  and  destroy  him  for 


ever." 


That  night  old  Eobert  Graham  could  not 
sleep  :  when  he  dozed  off  for  a  few  minutes, 
appalling  visions  presented  themselves  to  him, 
and  he  would  awake  with  a  cry  of  terror,  gazing 
wildly  at  the  door  of  his  room,  as  if  expecting 
strange  figures  to  stalk  in.  At  last  he  got  up 
and  lit  a  candle  and  tried  to  read ;  and  then  he 
would  walk  up  and  down  the  room  for  another 
half-hour,  thinking  mostly  of  Inverness  and  of 
what  might  be  happening  there  in  the  dead  of 
night ;  and  finally,  when  the  first  gray  light  of 
the  dawn  appeared,  he  completed  his  dressing, 
and  was  right  glad  to  get  out  into  the  actual 
world,  though  it  was  as  yet  all  voiceless  and 
untenanted  and  spectral. 

During  that  day  he  was  quite  anxiously  civil 
towards  his  niece ;  though  he  did  not  notice  that 
she,  on  her  part,  was  disturbed  and  restless,  and 


80  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

absent  from  time  to  time  for  a  considerable 
period. 

"  Ailie,  lass,"  said  he,  at  their  mid-day  dinner, 
"  I'm  thinking  of  taking  a  trip  to  Edinburgh  in 
a  week  or  two's  time." 

"  Yes,  uncle  ?  " 

"  Would  ye  like  to  go  wi'  me  ? "  he  said,  but  he 
kept  his  eyes  down,  for  this  was  not  a  natural 
part  for  him  to  play. 

"Me,  uncle?"  she  said,  in  great  surprise. 

"  Both  of  us  have  as  hard  work  as  most  folk," 
he  said,  "  what  wi'  the  farm  and  the  house  ;  and 
we're  no  so  ill  off ;  though  it's  a  lot  o'  money  to 
spend  on  the  railway.  But  ye've  often  said  ye 
would  like  to  see  Edinburgh ;  and  a  lass  come  to 
your  time  o'  life  shouldna  have  it  to  say  that  she 
ne'er  saw  a  town  bigger  than  Inverness  ;  and  I'm 
thinking  we'll  just  have  a  bit  holiday  trip  to- 
gether, if  ye're  willing.  Your  mind  has  been  set 
on  other  things,  as  weel  I  ken  ;  but  a  young  lass's 
fancies  alter  and  alter  as  the  days  pass ;  and  I 
dare  say  ye'll  be  as  well  pleased  to  see  Edin- 
burgh as  anybody.  And  we'll  no  spend  so  much 
money,  after  a' ;  for  we'll  go  to  some  quiet,  clean, 
comfortable  bit  inn  or  lodging-house  about  the 
Cowgate  ;  and  for  the  sight-seeing — for  ye  maun 


THE  WORKING  OF  THE  CHARM  81 

see  the  Castle  and  the  Calton  Hill  and  Holyrood, 
and  a  mony  things  like  that — weel,  we'll  just  do 
it  on  foot,  as  heaps  o'  better  folk  have  to  do, 
Ay,  ay,  lass,  your  mind  will  hae  plenty  to  think 
o'  when  ye  climb  up  Arthur's  Seat  and  see  the 
big  town  lying  below  ye.  It's  a  fine  sight,  that 
I've  heard  folk  say  there's  not  a  finer  in  the 
three  kingdoms." 

Alison  Graham  could  not  at  all  understand 
this  unwonted  complaisance  on  the  part  of  her 
uncle  ;  but  she  said  little ;  she  seemed  preoccupied. 
And  but  that  he,  too,  was  busy  with  his  own 
affairs,  he  might  have  complained  of  her  repeated 
absences  from  the  house  in  the  afternoon.  But 
he  did  not  notice.  He  was  looking  forward  to 
the  evening,  and  the  renewal  of  the  torture. 
What  was  happening  in  Inverness  ?  The  pining 
and  wasting  had  lasted  now  nearly  twenty -four 
hours ;  soon  there  would  come  the  occasion  for 
the  driving  in  of  those  vengeful  knives. 

Just  before  supper  he  thought  he  would  steal 
into  the  safe-room  for  a  minute  and  see  how  the 
corpse-like  image  looked  after  the  melting  of  the 
previous  night.  He  had  not  ordered  the  fire  to 
be  lit  as  yet;  and  as  he  had  left  the  window 
barred,  he  took  a  match  with  him  in  order 

G 


82  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

to  light  the  candle.  He  approached  the  door 
silently  and  stealthily,  as  if  there  were  a  coffin 
in  the  room. 

His  fingers  trembled  as  they  groped  for  the 
handle  of  the  door,  though  he  could  scarce  have 
told  why ;  what  was  there  to  harm  in  a  piece  of 
moulded  wax?  Inside,  the  little  chamber  was 
quite  dark.  He  felt  for  the  head  of  the  match. 
And  then — over  there  at  the  window-recess — he 
saw  something  white.  His  eyes  were  fascinated  ; 
he  went  forward;  it  was  something  wavering, 
blue-white,  and  spectral  in  the  darkness ;  was  it 
on  the  lid  of  the  iron  chest  ?  A  kind  of  wave  of 
shadow  passed  over  it,  and  it  partly  disappeared ; 
the  next  moment  it  shone  out  with  an  appalling 
distinctness — the  likeness  of  a  gallows  in  gleam- 
ing white  fire.  Terror-stricken,  speechless,  with 
palsied  hands  and  frenzied  eyeballs,  he  stood 
and  glared  at  this  awful  thing ;  and  then  three 
shrieks — three  shrill,  sharp  shrieks,  uttered  in 
rapid  succession — rang  through  the  silent  house, 
and  the  old  man  fell  helpless  and  senseless  to 
the  floor. 


CHAPTER  Y. 
THE  BRIDE'S  DOWRY. 

those  three  shrill  screams  rang  through  the 
house,  Alison  Graham,  who  was  seated  alone  in 
the  parlour — but  apparently  not  very  intent  on 
the  work  that  lay  in  her  lap — threw  her  sewing 
aside,  and  went  swiftly  up  the  stair.  When  she 
reached  the  landing,  the  dim  moonlight  in  the 
passage  showed  her  that  the  door  of  a  small 
store-room  there  was  just  being  opened ;  and 
she  knew  that  the  dark  figure  issuing  from  it 
must  be  Alec  Jameson.  She  caught  him  by  the 
arm. 

"  Oh,  Alec,  what  has  happened  ?  "  she  said,  in 
a  frighted  whisper.  "  What  is  it  ?  What  has 
happened  ? " 

"  Get  a  light,  and  see,"  he  answered  hurriedly, 
but  in  an  undertone.  "  Maybe  your  uncle  has 
had  a  fit.  I'm  going  down  to  the  shore ;  I'll 
wait  for  you  there." 

G  2 


84  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

He  disappeared.  She  had  to  return  to  the 
parlour  for  a  candle  ;  but  her  mind  was  so  be- 
wildered by  wild  forebodings  that  she  seemed  as 
one  dazed,  and  she  could  scarce  light  the  candle 
for  the  shaking  of  her  hand.  Had  the  two  men 
met  ?  Had  a  murder  been  done  in  the  house  ? 
Was  there  some  ghastly  object  lying  there  in  the 
safe -room  ?  And  yet  Jameson  had  declared  to 
her  that  his  first  object  was  to  keep  out  of  the 
way  of  her  uncle ;  and  had  made  the  most  elabo- 
rate precautions  for  concealing  himself  in  the 
store-closet.  However,  she  could  not  reason 
about  it.  The  three  piercing  shrieks  were  a 
summons.  Whatever  sight  might  be  awaiting 
her,  to  that  dreaded  safe-room  she  must  go. 

She  went  quickly  up  the  stair  again,  and  had 
just  reached  the  door  when  she  fancied  she  heard 
a  stirring  within.  For  a  moment  she  paused, 
as  if  to  summon  her  courage  together ;  then  she 
boldly  opened  the  door  and  entered  •  the  next 
instant  she  had  uttered  a  sharp  cry  of  alarm. 

"  Uncle— what  is  it  ? " 

The  old  man  was  struggling  to  his  feet — 
white-faced,  with  staring  eyes  and  apparently 
speechless.  He  seized  her  by  the  hand,  and 
clung  to  her;  then  he  darted  a  brief,  terrified 


THE  BRIDE'S  DOWRY  85 

glance  back  towards  the  iron  chest  in  the  recess; 
there  was  nothing  of  an  unusual  kind  visible 
there. 

"Ailie — Ailie,  lass,"  said  he,  at  length — and 
she  felt  that  he  was  trembling  like  a  reed,  and 
was,  indeed,  like  to  fall  to  the  floor  again— 
"  dinna  leave  me — just  bide  here  for  a  minute  or 
two — I've  had  a  kind  o'  wakeness  come  o'er  me 
—but  I'll  be  all  right  in  a  minute." 

He  stopped  for  want  of  breath. 

"  I'll  go  and  fetch  you  something,  uncle,"  said 
she.  "  Some  brandy — - — " 

"Ay,  ay,  brandy — brandy,"  he  managed  to 
stammer  out. 

"  Then  sit  down  for  a  moment,  uncle,  and  I'll 
bring  it.  Here,  let  me  get  you  the  chair." 

"  No,  no,  dinna  leave  me,  Ailie,  lass — no,  no — 
wait  a  minute  and  I'll  gang  wi'  ye — ay,  now — 
help  me  a  bit — we'll  get  down  to  the  parlour — 
there,  now — that's  a  good  lass." 

She  gave  him  what  help  she  could,  while  she 
held  the  candle  aloft  with  her  other  hand  ;  and 
in  this  way  they  got  down  to  the  parlour,  where 
he  sank  helplessly  into  an  arm-chair. 

"The  brandy,  now,  Ailie,— it's  a  kind  o' 
wakeness  that  came  o'er  me — there's  a  good  lass." 


86  THE   WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

For  she  had  quickly  gone  to  the  cupboard, 
and  poured  some  brandy  into  a  tumbler,  and 
brought  it  to  him.  With  a  shaking  hand  he 
managed  to  raise  it  to  his  lips  and  take  a  gulp  of 
it :  at  the  same  moment  there  was  a  noise  with- 
out in  the  passage — a  servant  lass  was  bringing 
along  the  things  for  supper. 

"  No,  no,"  he  said,  and  he  held  up  his  hand 
as  if  to  forbid  her  entrance.  "  Go  and  tell 
her,  Ailie,  not  to  come  in  here — not  yet — later 


on." 


Alison  went  to  explain  to  the  girl  that  her 
uncle  was  not  yet  ready  for  his  supper ;  and 
while  she  was  gone  he  kept  muttering  to  him- 
self- 

"  They're  against  me — they're  against  me— 
and  the  wise  woman  spoke  of  a  gallows,  too — 
what  has  angered  them  ? — but  there's  an  end  of 
that  now." 

Alison  returned ;  and  though  she  had  no  great 
cause  to  testify  solicitude  about  her  uncle — whose 
treatment  of  her  had  been  of  the  harshest — still, 
he  was  in  need  of  help  and  care,  and  woman- 
like she  busied  herself  about  him,  and  got  a 
pillow  for  his  head,  and  made  a  hundred  little 
suggestions  for  his  comfort. 


THE  BRID&S  DOWRY  87 

"  I've  been  an  ill  man,  Ailie,"  he  said — though 
it  almost  seemed  to  her  that  he  was  talking  to 
himself,  so  absent  were  his  eyes.  "  I've  done 
wrong  and  harm  ;  but  surely  the  worst  sinner 
will  find  mercy  and  peace  if  he  repents.  There's 
aye  that.  Seek  and  ye  shall  find.  The  door  is 
aye  open.  The  Lord  is  merciful — ay,  even  to 
the  worst.  Ailie,  lass,  bring  over  the  big  Bible 
to  the  table,  and  read  me  the  Twenty-third 
Psalm — there's  a  good  lass." 

"  But  will  I  not  send  for  the  doctor,  uncle  ?  " 
she  said  quickly  ;  for  this  calling  for  religious 
consolation  startled  her. 

"No,  no;  there's  the  doctor  I  want — peace 
and  mercy — peace  and  grace — the  door's  aye 
open." 

So  she  went  and  got  the  Bible ;  and  laid  it 
on  the  table ;  and  proceeded  to  read  the  psalm 
that  he  wanted.  And  as  she  read,  he  followed 
Her — apparently  repeating  phrases  from  time  to 
time,  with  little  comments  of  his  own  : 

"  The  Lord  is  my  shepherd — ay,  that's  right, 
the  Lord  can  save  :  what  for  would  any  one  go 
away  from  Him?  .  .  .  Yea,  though  I  walk 
through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death — no 
terrors — no  terrors  now — I  would  be  on  the  safe 


88  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

side — on  the  Lord's  side — and  then  who  can 
harm  ?  .  .  .  Thou  preparest  a  table  for  me — ay, 
indeed,  it's  the  Lord's  side  that's  the  safe  side — 
no  harm  can  come  then — safety  only,  and  peace, 
and  a  quate  mind.  .  .  .  /  will  dwell  in  the  house 
of  the  Lord  for  ever — ay,  that's  right — I'm 
obliged  to  ye,  Ailie,  lass — ye  may  shut  the  book 
now — in  the  house  of  the  Lord  for  ever — that's 
where  there's  safety — that's  the  safe  side — in 
the  house  of  the  Lord  for  ever." 

When  she  had  shut  the  big  Bible  and  put  it 
back  in  its  place,  she  returned  to  him,  anxious 
to  do  what  she  could  for  him  ;  and  indeed  those 
mumbled  remarks  had  caused  her  some  concern, 
for  they  sounded  like  the  utterances  of  one 
whose  mind  had  been  unhinged.  And  yet  her 
uncle  was  evidently  recovering  his  ordinary 
look ;  and  not  only  that,  but  he  had  some 
thought  to  bestow  upon  her.  He  would  have 
her  call  to  the  servant  to  bring  supper  now  ;  and 
it  was  not  for  himself,  it  was  for  her ;  why 
should  she  be  kept  hungry,  merely  because  a 
weakness  had  come  over  him,  and  he  had  sunk 
fainting  to  the  floor  for  a  minute  or  two  ?  Nay, 
he  insisted.  Alison,  who  was  far  more  solicitous 
about  him  than  he  had  any  right  to  expect, 


THE  BRIDES  DOWRY  89 

would  have  dismissed  all  notions  about  supper, 
but  that  he  would  not  be  denied  ;  so  the  girl 
was  summoned,  and  the  table  laid.  During 
that  time  the  old  farmer  remained  profoundly 
silent  and  thoughtful ;  when  the  girl  had  gone, 
he  spoke  : 

"  Ailie,  lass,"  said  he,  in  a  low  voice — as  if 
he  feared  some  one  might  be  listening  without 
— "tell  me,  now,  do  ye  happen  to  be  aware  o' 
Alec  Jameson's  address  in  Inverness  ? " 

She  was  startled,  and  looked  at  him,  as  if  to 
find  out  what  he  meant  by  such  a  question  ;  but 
his  eyes  were  bent  on  the  floor. 

"  Yes,  uncle,"  she  answered. 

"  Well,  now,  lass,"  he  said,  but  still  not  re- 
garding her,  "after  ye've  finished  wi'  your 
supper,  ye'll  jist  sit  down  and  write  him  a  bit 
note,  bidding  him  to  come  through  to  Fasslie. 
It's  a  bad  thing  to  have  quarrelling — a  bad 
thing ;  it's  better  to  be  friendly ;  and  you  jist 
tell  him  that  if  he'll  come  through  here,  we'll 
see  if  something  cannot  be  done  to  put  us  all  on 
friendly  terms.  Ay,  ay  ;  and  just  in  case  he 
should  have  gone  to  Nairn,  to  see  his  mother, 
send  him  a  bit  note  there  too  :  it's  all  the  one 
writing,  and  no  great  trouble." 


90  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

"  Indeed,  uncle,  it's  not  any  trouble  I  would 
spare  to  bring  you  and  him  together,"  she  said, 
but  she  was  entirely  bewildered  ;  she  could  not 
understand  this  sudden  change  of  front — nor 
yet  the  singular  events  of  that  evening. 

"  Ay,  and  if  he  is  not  well  enough  to  come," 
the  old  man  continued  cautiously  ;  "if  anything 
is  the  matter  wi'  him  and  he  canna  come  through 
to  Fasslie,  then  ye'll  just  tell  him  that  we  would 
like  to  make  friends  all  the  same,  and  he  is  to 
look  forward  to  that  when  he  gets  better,  and 
that  there's  none  wish  him  sooner  well  again 
than  the  folk  at  Fasslie." 

"  But  he's  not  ill  at  all,  uncle,"  Alison  ex- 
claimed. 

"  How  ken  ye  that  ?  "  said  he  quickly. 

"  Because "  said  she,  and  then  she  stopped 

and  stammered,  and  it  was  well  that  he  did  not 
notice  her  confusion.  "Because — he  would 
have  let  me  know — oh,  I  am  sure  he  is  not  ill 
at  all — I  am  sure  of  that." 

The  old  man  relapsed  into  silence  ;  and  she 
went  on  with  her  supper.  When  she  had 
.finished  she  asked  him  whether  she  should 
summon  the  lasses  for  family  worship,  or 
whether  he  would  not  omit  that  on  this  evening, 


THE  BRIDES  DOWRY  91 

seeing  that  lie  was  not  so  well.  But  the  old 
farmer  would  not  hear  of  any  such  omission ; 
the  girls  came  in  ;  the  big  Bible  was  opened ; 
and  he  began  the  reading. 

It  was  the  twenty-fourth  chapter  of  the  book 
of  Numbers  he  had  to  read ;  and  he  seemed 
singularly  distraught  and  absent  as  he  began, 
"And  when  Balaam  saw  that  it  pleased  the 
Lord  to  bless  Israel,  he  went  not,  as  at  other 
times,  to  seek  for  enchantments,  but  he  set  his 
face  toward  the  wilderness."  Nay,  now  and 
again  he  would  stop  and  repeat  a  phrase  as  if 
pondering  over  the  application  of  it  to  his  own 
case ;  and  especially  he  did  so  when  he  came  to 
"  Blessed  is  he  that  blesseth  thee."  Alison  could 
not  but  observe  that  her  uncle  was  very  strange 
in  his  manner  ;  and  more  than  ever  was  she  be- 
wildered as  to  what  had  happened  during  the 
evening ;  but  she  knew  that  an  explanation 
would  soon  be  forthcoming,  as  soon  as  she  could 
slip  away  from  the  house  and  seek  out  her  lover, 
who  was  waiting  for  her  down  by  the  shore. 

That  opportunity  arrived  directly ;  for  when 
family  worship  was  over  her  uncle  bade  her  go 
away  and  write  the  two  letters,  charging  her  to 
make  them  as  friendly  as  possible.  Instead  of 


92  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

going  to  her  own  little  room,  she  merely  drew 
a  shawl  round  her  head  and  shoulders,  opened 
the  front  door  quietly,  and  stole  out  into  the 
night. 

The  sea  was  much  quieter  now  than  it  had 
been  during  the  past  few  days,  though  still  a 
murmurous  noise  told  of  the  regular  fall  and 
recoil  of  the  waves ;  and  if  the  moonlight  was 
scarcely  so  strong  as  it  had  been,  it  was  still 
clear  enough  to  lighten  up  this  solitary  world 
of  shore  and  water  and  solemn  overarching  sky. 
She  walked  quickly  ;  she  could  hear  even  her 
light  footfall  in  the  prevailing  silence  that  the 
monotonous  wash  of  the  waves  hardly  seemed 
to  break.  But  by  and  by  she  was  nearer  down 
to  the  sea  ;  then  she  began  to  look  around  her ; 
she  heard  her  name  whispered ;  the  next  mo- 
ment she  was  in  a  sheltered  nook  among  the 
rocks,  with  her  sweetheart's  arms  enfolding  her. 

"  Oh,  Alec,  tell  me  what  it  is  all  about — it  is 
all  so  strange — so  strange,"  she  said,  as  she  freed 
herself  from  the  encumbering  shawl,  so  that  she 
could  nestle  closer  to  him.  "  Do  you  know 
that  my  uncle  thinks  you  have  been  ill  ? " 

"  It's  no  fault  of  his  that  I  am  not,"  said  he, 
grimly. 


THE  BRIDPS  DOWRY  93 

"  Oh,  but  you  must  not  speak  like  that  any 
more,"  said  she,  earnestly.  "It  is  to  be  all 
different  now.  He  is  most  anxious  to  be  friends 
with  you." 

"What— already?" 

"  At  this  very  moment  he  thinks  I  am  writing 
to  you,  bidding  you  come  to  Fasslie,  and  there's 
to  be  no  more  quarrelling,  but  everything 
friendly  and  well.  And  what  has  made  the 
change,  Alec;  what  has  happened?  Tell  me 
quick,  dear,  for  I  must  get  back  to  my  uncle." 

"  Is  he  ill  after  the  fright  ?"  the  young  sailor 
asked,  and  there  was  a  curious  smile  on  his 
face. 

"  Not  so  ill  as  he  was— oh  no ;  we  had  the 
family  worship  just  as  usual.  But  he  has  been 
greatly  disturbed — maybe  the  fainting  fit  fright- 
ened him.  Now,  tell  me,  Alec,  what  you  wanted 
to  be  in  the  house  for." 

"  But  it's  a  long  story,  Ailie,  my  dear " 

"  He'll  no  miss  me  for  a  while,"  said  she,  "  for 
I  had  two  letters  to  write,  and  he  was  anxious 
they  should  be  very  very  friendly,  and  bring  you 
to  Fasslie  just  at  once." 

He  laughed. 

"That's  a  change  in  the  weather,"  said  he, 


94  THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

"  However,  I'll  tell  ye  how  it  all  came  about. 
Your  uncle  has  been  trying  to  murder  me." 

"Alec!"  she  exclaimed,  and  she  tried  to  with- 
draw herself  from  him. 

"  Oh,  but  it's  true,  Ailie,  darling,"  said  he 
coolly.  "  First  he  thought  to  fell  me,  but  I  bid 
him  beware  of  what  would  happen  ;  then  he 
brought  out  a  horsewhip,  but  I  broke  that ; 
then  he  spoke  about  the  collies,  but  what  was 
the  use  of  that  when  you  were  by  me ;  and  so, 
as  he  couldna  get  at  me  any  other  way,  what 
more  natural  than  that  he  should  try  if  a  witch 
could  help  him  ?  Ailie,  my  dear,  your  uncle's  a 
queer  man  ;  surely  he  was  born  and  brought  up 
in  Shetland.  Why,  there's  not  an  ignorant 
servant  lass  nor  a  half-witted  sailor  has  such  a 
faith  in  magic  and  witchcraft,  if  all  I  hear  be 
true.  Ay,  and  it  is  true ;  and  what  has  hap- 
pened this  night  is  a  proof  o't.  Would  you 
believe  it,  then — your  uncle  went  in  to  Inver- 
ness to  get  hold  of  some  witch  or  spey-wife 
there  that  would  work  a  mischief  on  me ;  and 
as  good  luck  would  have  it,  he  happened  on  two 
poor  old  bodies  called  Lissom,  that  get  a  six- 
pence or  a  shilling  now  and  again  by  telling 
fortunes.  I'm  told  that  it's  only  of  late  years 


THE  BRIDE'S  DOWRY  95 

they've  taken  to  such  tricks ;  when  my  mother 
knew  them  in  Nairn  they  were  respectable  hard- 
working folk  just  like  others  ;  but  they  grew 
old,  and  got  less  work,  and  I  suppose  the  temp- 
tation of  picking  up  a  little  money  easily  in  that 
way  was  too  much  for  them ;  so  that  now 
when  a  sailor-lad  wants  to  know  if  his  lass  will 
bide  true  to  him,  he  just  slips  round  to  the 
wise  women,  and  they  bid  him  look  through  a 
piece  of  crystal  or  some  nonsense  of  that  kind, 
and  then  he  comes  on  board  with  a  light  heart. 
Ay,  and  that  old  Nancy  Lissom  is  a  sharp  one  ; 
she  led  your  uncle  on  from  one  thing  to  another, 
and  got  hold  of  the  whole  story ;  and  all  the 
time  she  was  saying  to  herself,  'This  will  be 
news  for  Mrs.  Jameson,  and  perhaps  her  laddie 
will  gain  by  it.'  As  for  her,"  the  young  sailor 
continued  with  a  laugh,  "  five  pounds  was  what 
she  got — and  a  mighty  windfall  it  was  for  them, 
Fm  thinking — but  they  were  to  get  ever  so 
much  more  as  soon"  as  they  managed  to  kill  me, 
so  I'm  much  obliged  to  them  for  staying  their 
hand." 

"  But  what  do  you  mean,  Alec — kill  you  ?  " 
the  girl  exclaimed. 

' 'Why,  she   pretended   she   could  Waste   me 


96          THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

with  a  sickness  by  melting  a  wax  image  before  a 
fire  ;  and  she  gave  your  uncle  the  image,  and 
told  him  what  to  do,  and  last  night  he  was  to 
begin." 

Alison  uttered  a  little  cry.  There  flashed 
into  her  memory  the  lighting  of  the  fire  on  the 
previous  evening.  Could  this  terrible  tale  be 
true  ;  had  her  uncle  really  been  plotting  against 
the  life  of  her  lover  ? 

"Ay,  she  is  a  sharp  one,  that  old  Nancy 
Lissom,"  he  continued,  in  his  matter-of-fact  way 
"  The  very  first  thing  next  morning  she  sent 
her  sister  to  my  mother  to  find  out  where  I  was ; 
and  then  I  went  back  with  her ;  and  between 
them  they  made  out  a  fine  plan  ;  at  least,  I'm 
thinking  it  has  worked  very  well  so  far,  Ailie ; 
and  I  think  that  neither  you  nor  me  will  ever 
have  a  word  to  say  against  spey-wives  as  long 
as  we  live.  I  need  not  tell  you  how  it  was  all 
arranged,  for  ye  must  be  getting  back  to  the 
house  ;  if  your  uncle  found  out  I  was  in  the 
neighbourhood,  he  might  suspect ;  but  this  I 
will  tell  you,  that  when  he  went  into  the  safe- 
room  this  evening  he  saw  something  he  will  not 
forget  in  a  hurry  ;  there  was  a  gallows  painted 
in  white  fire  on  the  lid  of  the  iron  chest.  Was 


THE  BRIDPS  DOWRY  97 

not  that  a  good  warning  ?  Faith,  it  was  a 
narrow  squeak  for  me ;  for  I  had  just  time  to 
bolt  into  the  store-closet  when  I  heard  his  foot 
on  the  stair  ;  ay,  and  no  sooner  was  I  in  than 
the  phosphorus  bottle  fell  from  my  hand,  and  I 
thought  he  would  have  heard  the  rattle  of  it, 
but  I  suppose  he  did  not.  And  so  he  wants  to 
be  friends  wi'  me  ?  Well,  I'm  willing  to  let 
bygones  be  bygones.  When  I  said  to  old  Nancy 
Lissom,  '  But  if  I  put  that  phosphorus  gallows 
on  the  iron  chest,  I  may  frighten  the  old  man 
out  of  his  senses/  she  says  directly,  '  Well,  then, 
he  would  have  murdered  you  if  he  could/  So 
it's  quits,  as  far  as  I  am  minded.  Now,  Ailie, 
dear,  I  would  like  to  stand  here  talking  to  you 
the  whole  night  through  ;  but  we  must  not  run 
any  risk.  He  must  not  know  I  am  here — — " 

"  But  you  will  stay  on  at  the  keeper's  cottage, 
Alec,"  she  said,  "  until  there's  time  for  the 
letters  to  go  to  Inverness,  and  for  you  to  come 
back.  Of  course  you  will  do  that  when  he  is  so 
anxious  to  see  you.  And  to-morrow  forenoon, 
about  eleven,  be  at  the  corner  of  the  fir-planta- 
tion, 'and  I  will  come  and  tell  you  how  things 
are  going.  Good-night — good-night ! " 

They  parted  ;  and  she  hastened  back  to  the 


98          THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

house.  She  found  that  the  old  farmer  had  not 
noticed  her  absence ;  he  had  drawn  the  armchair 
in  to  the  table,  and  was  poring  over  the  family 
Bible,  "occasionally  repeating  a  verse  aloud — 
"  Thy  word  is  a  lamp  unto  my  feet,  and  a  light 
unto  my  path.  .  .  .  The  wicked  have  laid  a  snare 
for  me :  yet  I  erred  not  from  thy  precepts.  .  .  .  I 
have  inclined  mine  heart  to  perform  thy  statutes 
alway,  even  unto  the  end''  And  when  he  ceased, 
he  told  Alison  that,  on  reflection,  his  conscience 
would  not  allow  him  to  touch  the  little  keg  of 
smuggled  whisky  that  had  been  secretly  sent 
him  from  the  "  black  bothy "  (it  was  really  a 
bribe  ;  for  the  whereabouts  of  the  illicit  still  was 
well  known  to  the  shepherds),  but  that  if  it  was 
presented  to  Mr.  Maclnroy  (the  minister  of  the 
parish),  there  would  be  a  kind  of  sanctifying  it 
to  good  uses ;  consequently,  he  bade  Alison  see 
that  the  little  cask  was  despatched  to  the  manse 
on  the  following  morning,  with  a  message  of 
compliments ;  for  Mr.  Maclnroy  was  a  good 
man,  and  respected,  and  it  behoved  all  decent 
people  to  do  what  they  could  for  the  comfort 
and  well-being  of  a  minister  of  the  gospel. 
After  that,  he  counselled  Alison  to  be  a  good 
girl ;  and  said  that  peace  and  prosperity  came  to 


THE  BRIDE'S  DOWRY  99 

those  who  walked  in  straight  and  upright  ways ; 
and  then,  after  she  had  persuaded  him  to  have  a 
little  supper,  and  also  (without  any  persuasion) 
a  stiff  tumbler  of  whisky  and  water,  he  again 
recommended  her  to  walk  in  the  paths  of  mercy 
and  justice  and  loving-kindness  to  all  mankind, 
and  got  him  away  to  bed. 

Well,  when  sufficient  time  had  been  allowed 
to  elapse  for  the  arrival  of  the  letters  in  Inver- 
ness and  Nairn,  and  for  the  return  of  the  proper 
answer,  Alec  Jameson  made  his  appearance ; 
and  very  much  surprised  he  appeared  to  be  at 
the  summons,  but  humble,  and  civil,  and 
courteous  withal.  After  one  sharp,  brief  glance, 
the  old  man  rather  kept  his  eyes  away  from 
him  ;  but  that  single  glance  had  satisfied  the 
farmer  that  no  mischief  at  all  had  been  wrought 
by  the  charm.  Had  the  unseen  powers  been 
mocking  him,  then  ?  Or  luring  him  on  to  his 
doom  ?  Anyway,  that  was  all  over  ;  he  would 
keep  to  the  straight  path ;  whatever  amends 
had  to  be  made,  he  would  make  now ;  and  then, 
with  his  hands  washed  clean  of  Alison's  affairs, 
how  could  any  one  in  the  future  harm  him, 
above  ground  or  under  ground,  in  the  water,  or 
above  the  sky  ? 

H  2 


TOO         THE  WISE  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

Alison,  her  uncle,  and  Alec  Jameson  were  in 
the  parlour. 

"  It's  but  a  natural  thing  for  young  folk  to 
think  of  getting  married,"  said  the  farmer, 
"  and  I've  changed  my  mind  ;  I'll  no  stand  in 
your  way  any  longer.  And  then  there's  another 
thing :  when  Alison  leaves  the  farm,  she  maun 
take  wi'  her  her  share  ;  that's  but  right ;  I  want 
to  be  just  and  fair  to  every  one,  man  or  woman, 
old  or  young.  It's  no  for  me  to  say  how  much 
it  is  ;  for  I've  worked  hard,  for  her  sake  and  my 
own  ;  but  we'll  have  the  lawyers  draw  out  an 
account,  and  whatever  is  hers,  she'll  have.  Are 
ye  satisfied  ?  " 

He  looked  up  at  the  young  man. 

"  It  was  not  after  Alison's  money  that  I  ever 
came  to  Fasslie,"  Alec  Jameson  said. 

"  But  are  ye  satisfied  ?  " 

"  I  would  take  Alison  without  a  penny,  if  that 
was  her  condition,"  he  said. 

"  But  are  ye  satisfied  ? "  the  old  man  insisted. 

"  Oh  yes.  On  behalf  of  Alison,  I  cannot  but 
say  that  is  a  fair  offer." 

"  For  this  is  what  I  want  to  say,"  the  old 
farmer  continued,  "that  when  Ailie  has  got 
every  penny  that  is  strictly  hers  ;  weel,  then,  a 


THE  BRIDES  JEpff/fft  i  o  i 

young  lass  should  hae  a  little  bit  extra  to  spend 
on  hersel'  when  she's  going  to  get  married,  and 
over  and  above  what  the  lawyers  give  her,  I 
mysel'  will  give  her  fifty  pounds — fifty  pounds 
will  I  give  her.  For  what  ?  Just  to  show  that 
there's  nae  ill-feeling  between  me  and  her,  or 
the  man  she's  going  to  marry,  or  any  other 
human  crayture." 

Of  course  they  professed  themselves  pro- 
foundly grateful ;  it  was  none  of  their  business 
to  probe  the  deeps  of  human  motives — though 
they  may  have  had  a  little  bit  of  a  guess  as  to 
the  origin  of  this  unwonted  generosity  ;  besides, 
the  fifty  pounds  would  do  something  to  beautify 
the  little  cottage  just  outside  Inverness  that 
these  two  had  talked  of  from  time  to  time, 
with  but  scant  notion  that  it  was  to  be  so  soon 
in  their  possession. 

And  a  very  pretty  cottage  it  is,  too,  at  this 
moment ;  and  if  you  happen  to  be  driving  by, 
you  may  catch  a  glimpse  of  Alison  Graham— or 
rather,  Mrs.  Jameson,  for  such  has  been  her  state 
and  condition  these  three  or  four  years  or  more 
— at  work  trimming  and  pruning  in  the  back 
garden,  while  a  small  bullet-headed  boy  is 
tumbling  about  near  her  among  the  gooseberry 


io2,        TH.£.  WISE-  WOMEN  OF  INVERNESS 

bushes,  and  doing  what  mischief  his  tiny  fists 
can.  The  fifty  pounds  were  carefully  expended ; 
but  as  for  the  other  money  coming  to  Alison, 
that  has  not  been  touched ;  on  the  contrary,  it 
has  been  added  to,  for  Captain  Jameson's  fifth 
share  has  so  far  been  profitable.  Alison  has 
gone  one  or  two  voyages  in  the  Princess  Mary ; 
but  she  is  not  particularly  fond  of  it ;  with  two 
children  to  look  after,  the  time  does  not  hang 
heavily  on  her  hands.  She  has  her  holiday-time 
when  Alec  Jameson  comes  home  from  sea ;  and 
they  have  plenty  of  friends  in  Inverness ; 
though  she  has  not  yet  mustered  up  courage 
enough  to  accept  her  husband's  jocular  invitation 
that  she  should  go  and  see  the  two  wise  women. 
She  prefers  to  leave  them  alone. 

As  for  old  Eobert  Graham,  he  is  an  elder  now. 
The  shrunken  wax  effigy  he  buried  at  cock-crow 
on  a  Sabbath  morning,  when,  as  every  one 
knows,  charms  and  incantations  are  powerless  to 
harm  ;  the  rest  of  the  day  he  devoted  to  reading 
aloud  from  the  family  Bible.  Whether  the 
mysterious  and  unnamed  powers  are  still  un- 
friendly, or  are  content  to  let  bygones  be 
bygones,  he  cannot  judge ;  at  all  events,  he 
would  cherish  no  ill-will  against  them ;  perhaps 


THE  BRIDE'S  DOWRY  103 

they  only  resented  some  touch  of  green  being 
left  on  the  big  iron  chest.  But  he  never  goes 
into  the  safe-room  now  after  the  sun  has  sunk 
behind  the  western  hills. 


RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER. 


(Reprinted  chiefly  from  the  Novel  entitled 
"  White  Heather:') 


RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER  io; 


EOSES  white,  roses  red, 

Eoses  in  the  lane, 
Tell  me,  roses  red  and  white, 

Where  is  Meenie  gane  ? 

0  is  she  on  Loch  Loyal's  side  ? 

Or  up  by  Mudal  Water  ? 
In  vain  the  wild  doves  in  the  woods 

Everywhere  have  sought  her. 

Eoses  white,  roses  red, 

Eoses  in  the  lane, 
Tell  me,  roses  red  and  white, 

Where  is  Meenie  gane  ? 


io8  RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER 


BEN  LOYAL  spake  to  Ben  Clebrig, 

And  they  thundered  their  note  of  war : 

"  You   look   down   on   your  sheep  and  your 

sheepfolds  : 
I  see  the  ocean  afar. 

"  You  look  down  on  the  huts  and  the  hamlets 

And  the  trivial  tasks  of  men  : 
I  see  the  great  ships  sailing 

Along  the  northern  main." 

Ben  Clebrig  laughed,  and  the  laughter 
Shook  heaven  and  earth  and  sea : 

"  There  is  something  in  that  small  hamlet 
That  is  fair  enough  for  me — 

"  Ay,  fairer  than  all  your  sailing  ships 
Touched  with  the  morning  flame — 

A  fresh  young  flower  from  the  hand  of  God  • 
Rose  Meenie  is  her  name  1 " 


RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER 


0  WILT  thou  be  my  dear  love  ? 

(Meenie  and  Meenie), 
0  wilt  thou  be  my  ain  love? 

(My  sweet  Meenie). 
Were  you  wi'  me  upon  the  hill, 
It's  I  would  gar  the  dogs  be  still, 
We'd  lie  our  lone  and  kiss  our  fill 

(My  love  Meenie). 

Aboon  the  burn  a  wild  bush  grows 

(Meenie  and  Meenie), 
And  on  the  bush  there  blooms  a  rose 

(My  sweet  Meenie), 
And  wad  ye  tak'  the  rose  frae  me, 
And  wear  it  where  it  fain  would  be, 
It's  to  your  arms  that  I  would  flee 

(Rose-sweet  Meeuie !). 


no  RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER 


BEN  CLEBRIG'S  a  blaze  of  splendour 

In  the  first  red  flush  of  the  morn, 
And  his  gaze  is  fixed  on  the  eastward 

To  greet  the  day  new-born; 
And  he  listens  a-still  for  the  bellow 

Of  the  antlered  stag  afar, 
And  he  laughs  at  the  royal  challenge, 

The  hoarse,  harsh  challenge  of  war. 

But  Ben  Clebrig  is  gentle  and  placid 

When  the  sun  sinks  into  the  west, 
And  a  mild  and  a  mellow  radiance 

Shines  on  his  giant  crest ; 
For  he's  looking  down  upon  Meenie, 

As  she  wanders,  along  the  road, 
And  the  mountain  bestows  his  blessing 

On  the  fairest  child  of  God. 


RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER  in 


A    BALLAD 

THE  kirkyard  mould  is  on  my  head; 

But  a  fire  is  in  my  heart; 
0  Mary  Mother,  have  pity  on  me, 

And  let  my  soul  depart ! 

0  is  she  dead,  or  does  she  live, 
That  wrought  this  woe  on  me, 

That  neither  Heaven  nor  Hell  is  mine, 
But  in  the  dark  I  dree? 

Yestreen  I  thought  I  heard  her  step, 
A  flame  went  through  my  breast : 

".0  is  she  come  to  say  the  word 
"Will  let  my  soul  have  rest?" 

But  never  she  thinks  of  Girvan's  banks, 
And  never  of  Afton's  bowers  ; 

Nor  of  the  nights  her  heart  beat  wild 
Till  the  wan  morning  hours. 


1 1 z  RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER 

But  ever  her  eyes  are  angry  red, 
And  her  cheeks  are  white  and  white  : 

God's  Mother,  I  pray  you  pardon  me, 
And  let  my  soul  take  flight ! 

It's  Heaven  or  Hell  that  I  would  seek, 
If  my  false  love  be  not  there — 

My  false  love  that  did  murder  me 
On  the  bonny  banks  of  Ayr. 


RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER  113 


ADAM    0'   FINTEY. 

"  0  MOTHER,  mother,  steik  the  door, 

And  hap  me  in  my  bed  : 
0  what  is  the  ringing  in  that  kirk-tower  ? 
"  It's  Adam  o'  Fintry 's  wed." 

"  It's  Adam  o'  Fintry  was  my  love 

"When  the  spring  was  on  the  lea ; 
It's  Adam  o'  Fintry  was  my  love 
When  the  leaf  fell  frae  the  tree. 

"  0  mother,  mother,  steik  the  door, 

And  make  the  window  fast; 
And  wrap  the  sheet  around  my  een 
Till  a'  the  folk  be  past. 

"  And  smiles  he  on  the  bonny  bride  ? 

And  is  she  jimp  and  fair? 
And  make  they  for  the  castle-towers 
Upon  the  banks  of  Ayr  ? 

I 


114  RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER 

"  0  what  is  this,  mother,  I  hear  I—- 
The bell  goes  slower  and  slow; 
And  are  they  making  ready  now 
For  the  dark  way  I  maun  go  ? 

"  You'll  lay  me  out  upon  the  bed, 

In  a  fair  white  linen  sheet ; 
With  candles  burning  at  my  heid, 
And  at  my  cauld,  cauld  feet; 

"  But,  mother,  bid  them  ring  low  and  low 

Upon  the  morrow's  morn ; 
For  I  wouldna  that  Fintry  heard  the  bell 
When  to  the  kirk  I'm  borne." 


RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER  115 


MUDAL   IN  JUNE. 

MUDAL,  that  comes  "from  the  lonely  mere, 
Silent  or  whispering,  vanishing  ever, 

Know  you  of  aught  that  concerns  us  here  ? — 
You,  youngest  of  all  God's  creatures,  a  river. 

Born  of  a  yesterday's  summer  shower, 

And  hurrying  on  with  your  restless  motion, 

Silent  or  whispering,  every  hour, 

To  lose  yourself  in  the  great  lone  ocean. 

Your  banks  remain ;    but  you  go  by, 

Through  day  and  through  darkness  swiftly 

sailing  : 

Say,  do  you  hear  the  curlew  cry, 
And  the  snipe  in  the  night-time  hoarsely 
wailing  ? 

Do  you  watch  the  wandering  hinds  in  the  morn ; 
Do   you  hear  the   grouse-cock   crow  in   the 

heather ; 

Do  you  see  the  lark  spring  up  from  the  corn, 
All  in  the  radiant  summer  weather  ? 

I  2 


1 16  RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER 

0  Mudal  stream,  how  little  you  know, 

That  Meenie  has  loved  you  and  loves   you 
ever ; 

And  while  to  your  ocean  home  you  flow, 
She  says  good-bye  to  her  well-loved  river ! 

0  see  you  her  now — she  is  coming  a-nigh — 

And  the  flower  in  her  hand  her  aim  discloses  : 
Laugh,  Mudal,  your  thanks  as  you're  hurrying 

by-_ 

For  she  flings  you  a  rose    in  the  month   of 
roses  ! 


RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER  1 17 


BY    ISLAY'S    SHOEES. 

BY  Islay's  shores  she  sate  and  sang : 
"  0  winds  come  blowing  o'er  the  sea, 

And  bring  me  back  my  love  again 
That  went  to  fight  in  Germanie  1 " 

And  all  the  live-long  day  she  sang, 
And  nursed  the  bairn  upon  her  knee  ; 

"Balou,  balou,  my  bonnie  bairn, 
Thy  father's  far  in  Germanie, 

"  But  ere  the  summer  days  are  gane, 
And  winter  blackens  bush  and  tree, 

Thy  father  will  we  welcome  hame 
Frae  the  red  wars  in  Germanie." 

0  dark  the  night  fell,  dark  and  mirk ; 

A  wraith  stood  by  her  icily  : 
"Dear  wife,  I'll  never  more  win  hame, 

For  I  am  slain  in  Germanie. 


ii8  RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER 

"  On  Minden's  field  I'm  lying  stark, 
And  Heaven  is  now  my  far  countrie ; 

Farewell,  dear  wife,  farewell,  farewell, 
I'll  ne'ej  win  hame  frae  Germanie." 

And  all  the  year  she  came  and  went, 
And  wandered  wild  frae  sea  to  sea  : 

"  0  neighbours,  is  he  ne'er  come  back, 
My  love  that  went  to  Germanie  ? " 

Port  Ellen  saw  her  many  a  time ; 

Eound  by  Port  Askaig  wandered  she : 
"  Where  is  the  ship  that's  sailing  in 

With  my  dear  love  frae  Gennanie  ? ' 

But  when  the  darkened  winter  fell : 
"  It's  cold  for  baith  my  bairn  and  me ; 

Let  me  lie  down  and  rest  awhile : 
My  love's  away  frae  Germanie. 

"  0  far  away  and  away  he  dwells ; 

High  Heaven  is  now  his  fair  countrie; 
And  there  he  stands — with  arms  outstretched- 

To  welcome  hame  my  bairn  and  me  1 " 


.RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER  119 


MUDAL,  that  comes  from  the  lonely  loch, 
Down    through     the    moorland    russet    and 
brown, 

Know  you  the  news  that  we  have  for  you  ?— 
Meenie's  away  to  Glasgow  town. 

See  Ben  Clebrig,  his  giant  front 

Hidden  and  dark  with  a  sullen  frown ; 

What  is  the  light  of  the  valley  to  him, 
Since  Meenie's  away  to  Glasgow  town? 

Empty  the  valley,  empty  the  world, 

The  sun  may  arise  and  the  sun  go  down  ; 

But  what  to  do  with  the  lonely  hours, 
Since  Meenie's  away  to  Glasgow  town? 

Call  her  back,  Clebrig ;  Mudal,  call ! 

Ere  all  of  the  young  Spring-time  be  flown ; 
Birds,  trees,  and  blossoms — you  that  she  loved — • 

0  summon  her  back  from  Glasgow  town  1 


120  RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER 


0  GLASGOW  town,  how  little  you  know 

That  Meenie  has  wandered  in 
To  the  very  heart  of  your  darkened  streets 

Through  all  the  bustle  and  din. 

A  Sutherland  blossom  shining  fair 

Amid  all  your  dismal  haze, 
Forgetting  the  breath  of  the  summer  hills, 

And  the  blue  of  the  northern  days. 

From  Dixon's  fire-wreaths  to  Eollox  stalk, 
Blow,  south  wind,  and  clear  the  sky, 

Till  she  think  of  Ben  Clebrig's  sunny  slopes 
Where  the  basking  red-deer  lie. 

Blow,  south  wind,  and  show  her  a  glimpse   of 
blue 

Through  the  pall  of  dusky  brown ; 
And  see  that  you  guard  her  and  tend  her  well, 

You,  fortunate  Glasgow  town ! 


RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER  121 


THE  clouds  lay  heavy  on  Clebrig's  crest, 

For  days  and  weeks  together  ; 
The  shepherds  along  Strath-Terry's  side 

Cursed  at  the  rainy  weather  ; 
They  scarce  could  get  a  favouring  day 

For  the  burning  of  the  heather. 

When  sudden  the  clouds  were  rent  in  twain 
And  the  hill  laughed  out  to  the  sun  ; 

And  the  hinds  stole  up,  with  wondering  eyes, 
To  the  far  slopes  yellow  and  dun  ; 

And  the  birds  were  singing  in  every  bush, 
As  at  spring  anew  begun. 

0  Clebrig,  what  is  it  that  makes  you  glad, 
And  whither  is  gone  your  frown  ? 

Are  you  looking  afar  into  the  south, 
The  long  wide  strath  adown  ? 

And  see  you  that  Meenie  is  coming  back — 
Love  Meenie,  from  Glasgow  town  ? 


122  RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER 


0  LASSES,  lasses,  gang  your  ways, 

And  dust  the  house,  or  wash  the  claes ; 

Ye  put  me  in  a  kind  o'  blaze — 

Ye'll  break  my  heart  among  ye.     . 

At  kirk  or  market,  morn  or  e'en, 
The  like  o'  them  was  never  seen, 
For  each  is  kind,  and  each  a  queen ; 
Ye'll  break  my  heart  among  ye. 

There's  that  one  dark,  and  that  one  fair, 
And  yon  has  wealth  o'  yellow  hair ; 
Gang  hame,  gang  hame — I  can  nae  mair 
Ye'll  break  my  heart  among  ye. 


RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER  123 


TO  HIS  TEKRIEE. 

AULD,  gray,  and  grizzled;  yellow  een ; 

A*  nose  as  brown's  a  berry ; 
A  wit  as  sharp  as  ony  preen — 

That's  my  wee"  chieftain  Harry. 

Lord  sakes  ! — the  courage  o'  the  man ! 

The  biggest  barn-yard  ratten, 
He'll  snip  him  by  the  neck,  o'er-han', 

As  he  the  deil  had  gatten. 

And  when  his  master's  work  on  hand, 
There's  none  maun  come  anear  him; 

The  biggest  Duke  in  all  Scotland, 
My  Harry's  teeth  would  fear  him. 

But  ordinar'  wise-like  fowl  or  freen, 

He's  harmless  as  a  kitten  ; 
As  soon  he'd  think  o'  worryin* 

A  hennie  when  she's  sittin'. 


124  RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER 

But  Harry,  lad,  ye're  growin'  auld; 

Your  days  are  getting  fewer ; 
And  maybe  Heaven  has  made  a  fauld 

For  such  wee  things  as  you  are. 

And  what  strange  kintra  will  that  be? 

And  will  they  fill  your  coggies  ? 
And  whatna  strange  folk  there  will  see 

There's  water  for  the  doggies  ? 

Ae  thing  I  brawly  ken  :  it's  this — 
Ye  may  hae  work  or  play  there  ; 

But  if  your  master  once  ye  miss, 
I'm  bound  ye  winna  stay  there. 


RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER  125 


A  LETTEE. 

0  JOHNNIE,  leave  the  lass  alane ; 
Her  mother  has  but  that  one  wean ; 
For  a'  the  others  have  been  ta'en, 

As  weel  ye  ken,  Johnnie. 

'Tis  true  her  bonnie  een  would  rive 
The  heart  o'  any  man  alive  ; 
And  in  the  husry  she  would  thrive, 
I  grant  ye  that,  Johnnie. 

But  wad  ye  tak'  awa'  the  lass, 

1  tell  ye  what  would  come  to  pass, 
The  mother  soon  wad  hae  the  grass 

Boon  her  auld  head,  Johnnie. 

They've  got  a  cow,  and  bit  o'  land 
That  well  would  bear  another  hand; 
Come  down  frae  Tongue,  and  take  your 
stand 

On  Kinloch's  side,  Johnnie  1 


126  RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER 

Ye'd  herd  a  bit,  and  work  the  farm, 
And  keep  the  widow- wife  frae  harm ; 
And  wha  would  keep  ye  snug  and  warm 
In  winter-time,  Johnnie? — 

The  lass  hersel' — that  I'll  be  sworn! 
And  bonnier  creature  ne'er  was  born ; 
Come  down  the  strath  the  morrow's  morn, 
Your  best  foot  first,  Johnnie ! 


RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER  127 


ACEOSS  THE  SEA. 

IN  Nova  Scotia's  clime  they've  met, 

To  keep  the  New  Year's  night; 
The  merry  lads  and  lasses  crowd 

Around  the  blazing  light. 

But  father  and  mother  sit  withdrawn 

To  let  their  fancies  flee 
To  the  old,  old  time,  and  the  old,  o]d  home 

That's  far  across  the  sea. 

And  what  strange  sights  and  scenes  are  these 
That  sadden  their  shaded  eyes  ? — 

Is  it  only  thus  they  can  see  again 
The  land  of  the  Mackays? 

0  there  the  red-deer  roam  at  will ; 

And  the  grouse  whirr  on  the  wing; 
And  the  curlew  call,  and  the  ptarmigan 

Drink  at  the  mountain  spring; 


128  RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER 

And  the  hares  lie  snug  on  the  hillside ; 

And  the  lusty  black-cock  crows ; 
But  the  river  the  children  used  to  love 

Through  an  empty  valley  flows. 

Do  they  see  once  more  a  young  lad  wait 

To  shelter  with  his  plaid, 
When  she  steals  to  him  in  the  gathering  dusk, 

His  gentle  Highland  maid  ? 

Do  they  hear  the  pipes  at  the  weddings ; 

Or  the  long,  funereal  wail 
As  the  boat  goes  out  to  the  island, 

And  the  shrill  notes  tell  their  tale  ? 

0  fair  is  Naver's  strath,  and  fair 

The  strath  that  Mudal  laves  ; 
And  dear  the  haunts  of  our  childhood, 

And  dear  the  old  folks'  graves  ; 

And  the  parting  from  one's  native  land 

Is  a  sorrow  hard  to  dree  ; 
God's  forgiveness  to  them  that  drove  us 

So  far  across  the  sea  ! 

And  is  bonnie  Strath-Naver  shining, 
As  it  shone  in  the  bygone  years  ? — 

As  it  shines  for  us  now — ay,  ever — 
Though  our  eyes  are  blind  with  tears  I 


RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER  129 


THROUGH  the  long  sad  centuries  Clebrig  slept, 

Nor  a  sound  the  silence  broke, 
Till  a  morning  in  Spring  a  strange  new  thing 

Bestirred  him  and  he  awoke; 

And   he   laughed,  and   his   joyous   laugh   was 
heard 

From  Erribol  far  to  Tongue, 
And  his  granite  veins  deep  down  were  stirred, 

And  the  great  old  mountain  grew  young. 

'Twas  Love  Meenie  he   saw,  and  she  walked 

by  the  shore, 

And  she  sang  so  sweet  and  so  clear, 
That  the  sound  of  her  voice  made  him  see 

again 
The  dawn  of  the  world  appear. 

And  at  night  he  spake  to  the  listening  stars, 
And  bade  them  a  guard  to  keep 

On  the  hamlet  of  Inver-Mudal  there, 
And  the  maid  in  her  innocent  sleep. 

K 


130  RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER 

Till  the  years  should  go  by,  and  they  should  see 

Love  Meenie  take  her  stand 
'Mong  the  maidens  around  the  footstool  of  God, 

She  gentlest  of  all  the  band ! 


RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER  ,131 


ALL  on  a  fair  May  morning 

The  roses  began  to  blowi; 
Some  of  them  tipped  with  crimson, 

Some  of  them  tipped  with  snow. 

But  they  looked  the  one  to  the  other, 
And  they  looked  adown  the  glen; 

They  looked  the  one  to  the  other 
And  rubbed  their  eyes  again. 

"0  there  is  the  lark  in  the  heavens, 
And  the  mavis  sings  in  the  tree; 
And  surely  this  is  the  summer, 
But  Meenie  we  cannot  see. 

"  Surely  there  must  be  summer 

Coming  to  this  far  clime; 
And  has  Meenie,  Love  Meenie,  forgotten, 
Or  have  we  mistaken  the  time  ?  " 

K  2 


132  RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER 

Then  a  foxglove  spake  to  the  roses: 
"  0  hush  you,  and  cease  your  din ; 

For  I'm  going  back  to  my  sleeping 
Till  Meenie  brings  summer  in." 


RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER  133 


BY  Mudal's  river  she  idly  strayed; 

And  drank  afresh  the  morning  breeze : 
Tell  me,  you  beautiful  dark-eyed  maid 

That's  come  across  the  Atlantic  seas- 
See  you  our  winsome  Sutherland  flower, 

Her  cheek  the  tint  of  the  summer  rose, 
Her  gold-brown  hair  her  only  dower,  , 

Her  soul  as  white  as  Ben  Clebrig's  snows ; 

Blue  as  the  ruffled  loch  her  eyes, 

Sweet  her  breath  as  the  blossoming  heather : 
0  do  you  think  the  whole  world's  skies 

Can  see  aught  fairer  than  you  together  ? 

Sisters  twain — one  slender  and  dark, 

Her  cheek  faint-tanned  by  the  tropic  south ; 

One  northern-bred,  her  voice  like  a  lark, 
The  joy  of  the  hills  in  her  gladsome  youth. 


134  RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER 

Ben  Clebrig  shall  judge — nay,  shall  keep  the 
two, 

And  bind  them  in  chains  of  love  for  ever : 
Look  to  it,  Clebrig ;   guard  them  true  : 

Sisters  twain — and  why  should  they  sever? 


RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER  135 


A  FLOWER-AUCTION. 

• 

WHO  will  buy  pansies? 

There  are  her  eyes, 
Dew-soft  and  tender, 

Love  in  them  lies. 

Who  will  buy  roses? 

There  are  her  lips, 
And  there  is  the  nectar 

That  Cupidon  sips. 

Who  will  buy  lilies  ? 

There  are  her  cheeks, 
And  there  the  shy  blushing 

That  maidhood  bespeaks. 

Meenie,  Love  Meenie, 
What  must  one  pay? 

Good  stranger,  the  market's 
Not  open  to-day  1 


136  RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER 


0  WHITE'S  the  moon  upon  the  loch, 
And  black  the  bushes  on  the  brae, 

And  red  the  light  in  your  window-pane, 
When  will  ye  come  away, 
Meenie, 
When  will  ye  come  away? 

I'll  wrap  ye  round  and  keep  ye  warm, 
For  mony  a  secret  we've  to  tell, 

And  ne'er  a  sound  will  hinder  us, 
Down  in  yon  hidden  dell, 

Meenie, 
Down  in  yon  hidden  dell. 

0  see  the  moon  is  sailing  on 

Through  fleecy  clouds  across  the  skies, 
But  fairer  far  the  light  that  I  know, 

The  love-light  in  your  eyes, 
Meenie, 

The  love-light  in  your  eyes. 


RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER  137 

0  haste  and  haste ;  the  night  is  sweet, 
But  sweeter  far  what  I  would  hear, 

And  I  have  a  secret  to  tell  to  you, 
A  whisper  in  your  ear, 

Meenie, 
A  whisper  in  your  ear. 


138  RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER 


SMALL  birds  in  the  corn 
Are  cowering  and  quailing  : 
0  my  lost  love 
Whence  are  you  sailing? 

Fierce  the  gale  blows 
Adown  the  bleak  river; 
The  valley  is  empty 
For  ever  and  ever. 


Out  on  tb^  seas 

The  nigh;u-winds  are  wailing 

0  my  lost  love 

Whence  are  you  sailing? 


RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER  139 


0  GLASGOW  lasses  are  fair  enough, 

And  Glasgow  lads  are  merry  ; 
But  I  would  be  with  my  own  dear  maid 

A-wandering  down  Strath-Terry. 

And  she  would  be  singing  her  morning  song, 
The  song  that  the  larks  have  taught  her, 

A  song  of  the  northern  seas  and  hills, 
And  a  song  of  Mudal  Water. 

The  bands  go  thundering  through  the  streets 

The  fifes  and  drums  together; 
Far  rather  I'd  hear  the  grouse-cock  crow 

Among  the  purple  heather ; 

And  I  would  be  on  Ben  Clebrig's  brow 

To  watch  the  red-deer  stealing 
In  single  file  adown  the  glen 

And  past  the  summer  sheiling. 


140  RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER 

0  Glasgow  lasses  are  fair  enough, 

And  Glasgow  lads  are  merry ; 
But  ah,  for  the  voice  of  my  own  dear  maid, 

A-singing  adown  Strath-Terry ! 


RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER  141 


KEEL-SONG. 

FROM  out  of  the  station  we  rattle  away, 
Wi'  a  clangour  of  axle  and  wheel ; 

There's  a  merrier  sound  that  we  know  in  the 

North— 
The  merry  merry  shriek  of  the  reel. 

0  you  that  shouther  the  heavy  iron  gun, 
And  have  steep,  steep  braes  to  speel — 

We  envy  you  not :  enough  is  for  us 
The  merry  merry  shriek  of  the  reel. 

When  the  twenty-four  pounder  leaps  in  the  air 
And  the  line  flies  out  with  a  squeal — 

0  that  is  the  blessedest  sound  upon  earth, 
The  merry  merry  shriek  of  the  reel. 

So  here's  to  good  fellows!     For  them  that 
are  not 

Let  them  gang  and  sup  kail  wi'  the  deil ! 
We've  other  work  here — so  look  out,  my  lads, 

For  the  first  sharp  shriek  of  the  reel ! 


142  RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER 


ANOTHEK  GLASS  BEFOEE  WE  GO. 

GOOD  friends  and  neighbours,  life  is  short, 
And  man,  they  say,  is  made  to  mourn ; 
Dame  Fortune  makes  us  all  her  sport, 
And  laughs  our  very  best  to  scorn. 

Well,  well :  well  have,  if  that  be  so, 

A  merry  glass  before  we  go. 

The  blue- eyed  lass  will  change  her  mind, 
And  give  her  kisses  otherwhere ; 
And  she'll  be  cruel  that  was  kind, 
And  pass  you  by  with  but  a  stare. 

Well,  well :   we'll  have,  if  that  be  so, 

A  merry  glass  before  we  go. 

The  silly  laddie  sits  and  fills 
Wi'  dreams  and  schemes  the  first  o'  life ; 
And  then  comes  heap  on  heap  of  ills, 
And  squalling  bairns  and  scolding  wife. 

Well,  well :   we'll  have,  if  that  be  so, 

A  merry  glass  before  we  go. 


RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER  $43 

Come  stir  the  fire  and  make  us  warm, 
The  night  without  is  dark  and  wet; 
An  hour  or  twa  'twill  do  nae  harm 
The  dints  o'  fortune  to  forget. 

So  now  we'll  have,  come  weal  or  woe, 

Another  glass  before  we  go. 

To  bonny  lasses,  honest  blades, 
We'll  up  and  give  a  hearty  cheer; 
Contention  is  the  worst  of  trades — 
We  drink  their  health,  both  far  and  near. 

And  so  we'll  have,  come  weal  or  woe, 

Another  glass  before  we  go. 

And  here's  ourselves  ! — no  much  to  boast, 
For  man's  a  wean  that  lives  and  learns  ; 
And  some  win  hame  and  some  are  lost ; 
But  still,  we're   all   John   Thomson's   bairns. 

So  here,  your  hand ! — come  weal  or  woe, 

Another  glass  before  we  go ! 


144  RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER 


KING  DEATH  came  striding  along  the  road, 

And  he  laughed  aloud  to  see 
How  every  rich  man's  mother's  son 

Would  take  to  his  heels  and  flee. 

"Duke,  lord,  or  merchant,  off  they  skipped, 

Whenever  that  he  drew  near ; 
And  they  dropped  their  guineas  as  wild  they 
ran, 

And  their  faces  were  white  with  fear. 

But  the  poor  folk  labouring  in  the  fields, 

Watched  him  as  he  passed  by ; 
And  they  took  to  their  spades  and  mattocks 
again, 

And  turned  to  their  work  with  a  sigh. 

Then  farther  along  the  road  he  saw 

An  old  man  sitting  alone  ; 
His  head  lay  heavy  upon  his  hands, 

And  sorrowful  was  his  moan. 


RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER  145 

Old  age  had  shrivelled  and  bent  his   frame ; 

Age  and  hard  work  together 
Had  scattered  his  locks,  and  bleared  his  eyes  — 

Age  and  the  winter  weather. 

"  Old  man,"  said  Death,  "  do  you  tremble  to 

know 

That  now  you  are  near  the  end?" 
The  old  man  looked  :  "  You  are  Death," 

said  he, 
"And  at  last  I've  found  a  friend." 


U6  RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER 


SHOUTHER  TO  SHOUTHER. 

FROM  Hudson's  Bay  to  the  Rio  Grand' 

The  Scot  is  ever  a  rover ; 
In  New  South  Wales  and  in  Newfoundland, 

And  all  the  wide  world  over. 

Chorus. 

But  it's  shouther  to  shouther,  my  bonnie  lads, 
And  let  every  Scot  be  a  brither ; 

And  we'll  work  as  we  can,  and  we'll  win  if  we 

can, 
For  the  sake  of  our  auld  Scotch  mither. 

She's  a  puir  auld  wife,  wi'  little  to  give, 

And  rather  stint  o'  caressing ; 
But  she's  shown  us  how  honest  lives  we  may 
live, 

And  sent  us  out  wi'  her  blessing. 

Chorus — And  it's  shouther  to  shouther,  etc. 


RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER  147 

Her  land's  no  rich ;   and  her  crops  are  slim ; 

And  I  winna  say  much  for  the  weather ; 
But  she's  given  us  legs  that  can  gaily  clim' 

Up  the  slopes  of  the  blossoming  heather. 

Chorus — And  it's  shouther  to  shouther,  etc. 

And  she's  given  us  hearts  that,  whate'er  they 
say 

(And  I  trow  we  might  be  better), 
There's  one  sair  fault  they  never  will  hae — 

Our  mither,  we'll  never  forget  her  ! 

Chorus — And  it's  shouther  to  shouther,  etc. 


L  2 


148  RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER 


WINTEE  SONG. 

KEEN  blows  the  wind  upon  Clebrig's  side, 
And  the  snow  lies  thick  on  the  heather, 

And  the  shivering  hinds  are  glad  to  hide 
Away  from  the  winter  weather. 

Chorus. 

But  soon  the  birds  will  begin  to  sing, 
And  we  will  sing  too,  my  dear ; 

To  give  good  welcoming  to  the  Spring, 
In  the  primrose-time  o'  the  year ! 

Hark  how  the  black  lake,  torn  and  tost, 

Thunders  along  its  shores ; 
And  the  burn  is  hard  in  the  grip  of  the  frost, 

And  white,  snow-white  are  the  moors. 

Chorus. 

But  soon  the  birds  will  begin  to  sing, 
And  we  will  sing  too,  my  dear; 

To  give  good  welcoming  to  the  Spring, 
In  the  primrose-time  o'  the  year  I 


RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER  149 

0  then  the  warm  west  winds  will  blow, 

And  all  in  the  sunny  weather, 
It's  over  the  moorland  we  will  go, 

You  and  I,  my  love,  together. 

Chorus. 

And  then  the  birds  will  begin  to  sing, 
And  we  will  sing  too,  my  dear, 

To  give  good  welcoming  to  the  Spring, 
In  the  primrose-time  o'  the  year! 


ISO  RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER 


THE  blossom  was  white  on  the  blackthorn  tree, 
And  the  mavis  was  singing  rarely; 

When    Meenie,   Love   Meenie,   walk'd  out  wi' 

me, 
All  in  the  Spring-time  early. 

"  Meenie,  Love  Meenie,  your  face  let  me  see, 

Meenie,  come  answer  me  fairly ; 
Meenie,  Love  Meenie,  will  you  wed  me, 

All  in  the  Spring-time  early?" 

Meenie  but  laughed ;  and  kent  na  the  pain 
That  shot  through  my  heart  fu'  sairly  : 

"  Kind  sir,  it's  a  maid  that  I  would  remain 
All  in  the  Spring-time  early." 


RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER  151 


A  MESSAGE. 

THE  hinds  are  feeding  upon  the  hill, 
And  the  hares  on  the  fallow  lea; 

Awake,  awake,  Love  Meenie  ! 
Birds  are  singing  in  every  tree ; 

And  roses  you'll  find  on  your  window-sill 
To  scent  the  morning  air ; 

Awake,  awake,  Love  Meenie, 
For  the  world  is  shining  fair ! 

0  who  is  the  mistress  of  bird  and  flower  ? 
Ben  Clebrig  knows,  I  ween  ! 

Awake,  awake,  Love  Meenie, 
To  show  them  their  mistress  and  queen ! 


IS*  RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER 


0  WHAT'S  the  sweetest  thing  there  is 
In  all  the  wide,  wide  world? 

A  rose  that  hides  its  deepest  scent 
In  the  petals  closely  curled? 

Or  the  honey  that's  in  the  clover, 
Or  the  lark's  song  in  the  morn, 

Or  the  wind  that  blows  in  summer 
Across  the  fields  of  corn; 

Or  the  dew  that  the  queen  of  the  fairies 

From  her  acorn-chalice  sips? 
Ah  no;  for  sweeter  and  sweeter  far 

Is  a  kiss  from  Meenie's  lips! 


RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER  153 


THE  WITCH-MAIDENS. 

THE  moonlight  lies  on  Loch  Naver 
And  the  night  is  strange  and  still ; 

And  the  stars  are  twinkling  coldly- 
Above  the  Clebrig  hill. 

And  there  by  the  side  of  the  water, 
0  what  strange  shapes  are  these  ? 

0  these  are  the  wild  witch-maidens 
Down  from  the  northern  seas. 

And  they  stand  in  a  magic  circle, 
Pale  in  the  moonlight  sheen  ; 

And  each  has  over  her  forehead 
A  star  of  golden-green. 

0  what  is  their  song? — of  sailors 
That  never  again  shall  sail ; 

And  the  music  sounds  like  the  sobbing 
And  sighing  that  brings  a  gale. 


1 54  RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER 

But  who  is  she  who  comes  yonder? — 

And  all  in  white  is  she  ; 
And  her  eyes  are  open,  but  nothing 

Of  the  outward  world  can  she  see. 


0  haste  you  back,  Meenie,  haste  you, 
And  haste  to  your  bed  again ; 

For  these  are  the  wild  witch-maidens 
Down  from  the  northern  main. 

They  open  the  magic  circle ; 

They  draw  her   into  the  ring ; 
They  kneel  before  her,  and  slowly 

A  strange,  sad  song  they  sing. 

A  strange,  sad  song — as  of  sailors 
That  never  again  shall  sail ; 

And  the  music  sounds  like  the   sobbing 
And  sighing  that  brings  a  gale. 

0  haste  you  back,  Meenie,  haste  you, 
And  haste  to  your  bed  again ; 

For  these  are  the  wild  witch-maidens 
Down  from  the  northern  main. 


RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER  155 

"  0  come  with  us,  rose-white  Meenie, 

To  our  sea-halls  draped  with  green  ; 
0  come  with  us,  rose-white  Meenie, 
And  be  our  rose-white  queen ! 


"  And  you  shall  have  robes  of  splendour, 

With  shells  and  pearls  bestrewn ; 
And  a  sceptre  olden  and  golden, 
And  a  rose-white  coral  throne. 

"And  by  day  you  will  hear  the  music 

Of  the  ocean  come  nigher  and  nigher ; 
And  by  night  you  will   see  your  palace 
Ablaze  with  phosphor  fire. 

"0  come  with   us,  rose- white  Meenie, 

To  our  sea-halls  draped  with  green ; 
0  come  with  us,  rose-white  Meenie, 
And  be  our  rose-white  queen ! " 

But  Clebrig  heard;  and  the  thunder 
Down  from  his  iron  hand  sped ; 

And  the  band   of  the  wild  witch-maidens 
One  swift  shriek  uttered,  and  fled. 


1 56  RHYMES  BY  A  DEERSTALKER 

And  Meenie  awoke,  and  terror 
And  wonder  were  in  her  eyes ; 

And  she  looked  at  the  moon-white  valley, 
And  she  looked  to  the  starlit  skies. 

0  haste  you  back,  Meenie,  haste  you, 
And  haste  to  your  bed  again; 

For  these  are  the  wild  witch-maidens 
Down  from  the  northern  main.  , 

0  hear  you  not  yet  their  singing 
Come  faintly  back  on  the  breeze? 

The  song  of  the  weird  witch-sisters 
As  they  fly  to  the  Iceland  seas. 

0  hark ! — 'tis  a   sound  like  the  sobbing 
And  sighing   that  brings  a  gale : 

A  low,  sad  song — as  of  sailors 
That  never  again  shall  sail ! 


THE  SUPERNATURAL  EXPERIENCES 
OF  PATSY  CONG. 


THE  SUPERNATURAL  EXPEEIENCES  OF 
PATSY  CONG. 


IT  was  a  clear-shining  day  in  April ;  we  were 
on  a  small  blue  lake  set  far  away  among  the 
sterile  brown  moors  of  Connemara ;  and  the 
long  salmon  rod  lay  over  the  gunwale  of  the 
boat,  idly  trailing  behind  it  forty  yards  of  line 
and  a  phantom  minnow.  Indeed  the  day  was 
much  too  fine  for  proper  fishing.  One  might  as 
well  have  thrown  a  fly  over  the  wood  pavement 
in  Pall  Mall.  It  was  a  day  rather  for  laziness, 
and  conversation,  and  an  inquiry  into  the 
mysteries  of  existence,  if  haply  one  or  other  of 
my  companions  had  chanced  to  encounter  any  of 
these  in  this  remote  and  solitary  and  silent  part 
of  the  country.  But  Patsy  did  not  look  like  a 
believer,  somehow.  He  was  a  small,  red-headed 
Celt,  with  shrewd,  twinkling,  gray-blue  eyes ; 
and  there  was  frequently  a  sort  of  quiet,  sardonic 


160       THE  SUPERNATURAL  EXPERIENCES 

humour  running  through  his  speech,  accompanied 
now  and  again  by  a  good-natured  grin  that  over- 
spread the  little,  pinched,  sunburnt  face.  More- 
over, Patsy  had  seen  the  world.  In  former 
years  he  had  tried  his  luck  in  America  ;  had 
been  employed  on  various  railways  as  far  west 
as  Council  Bluffs ;  had  had  a  turn  at  the 
Pittsburg  ironworks ;  and  was  now  returned 
to  his  native  district  with  a  wide  and  general 
knowledge  of  mankind.  On  the  other  hand,  his 
neighbour  at  the  bow,  Tim  Mulcahy  by  name, 
was  nothing  but  a  ghost  and  an  echo.  He  was 
a  small  farmer  who  came  down  from  his  croft  in 
the  hills  to  eke  out  his  living  in  this  way — 
a  characterless,  white-faced,  depressed-looking, 
amiable  creature,  who  stared  at  his  boots,  lazily 
pulled  at  his  oar,  and  limited  his  conversation 
to  saying  ditto  to  Patsy.  "  That's  so,  Patsy." 
"  You're  right,  Patsy."  "  Not  wan  less  than 
fourteen  salmon  did  he  catch  that  day."  "  Your 
father  was  a  good  man,  Patsy ;  he  wouldn't  tell 
a  lie  for  hardly  anything."  "  That's  true  for 
you,  Patsy;  the  like  of  thim  for  minnows  I 


never  saw." 


Now  at  the  head  of  this  small  lake  that  we 
were  slowly  and  idly  rowing  round  and  round 


OF  PATSY  CONG  161 

stood  a  long,  low  cottage  situated  in  the  middle 
of  a  patch  of  trees — lilac-tinted  leafless  birches 
and  sparkling  dark-green  hollies.  In  summer 
no  doubt  this  must  be  a  very  charming  place ; 
even  now  the  situation  was  picturesque  enough 
— the  still  waters  of  the  lake  in  front ;  the  trees 
along  the  curving  shore  ;  and  then  rising  far 
behind  into  the  pale  blue  sky  the  vast  and 
lonely  and  arid  mountains  known  as  the  Twelve 
Pins  of  Binabola.  This  prettily-situated  cot- 
tage, however,  was  unmistakably  empty.  The 
windows  were  barred  up,  there  was  a  look  of 
desolation  around  ;  not  a  sound  of  any  kind 
came  from  that  scattered  grove  of  birch  and 
holly. 

"The  very  place  to  be  haunted  by  a  lepre- 
chaun, isn't  it,  Patsy  ?  " 

"Is  it  Barney  Joyce  your  honour  manes  \ " 
says  the  instantly  loquacious  Patsy  ;  "  the  man 
that  comes  to  look  after  the  house  ?  Well, 
now,  your  honour  wouldn't  believe  what  a  great 
soldier  that  Barney  is — oh,  he  is  the  mighty  fine 
soldier,  by  the  fire.  Sure  the  battles  he'll  fight, 
and  the  campaigns,  and  the  stratagims,  and  the 
ginerals,  and  the  marchings,  and  the  counter- 
marchings  !  I  niver  heard  his  aqual ;  and  the 

M 


162        THE  SUPERNATURAL  EXPERIENCES 

divil  a  foot  has  he  iver  stirred  out  of  Conne- 
mara ! " 

"  But  when  the  house  is  empty,  Patsy,  isn't 
there  a  ghost  or  a  goblin  somewhere  about  ? " 

"  Well,  indeed,  the  fairies  used  to  come 
there,"  says  Patsy,  with  indifference.  "  They 
used  to  say  that.  But  thim  ould  stories  are  all 


nonsinse." 


"  They're  all  nonsinse,  Patsy,  thim  ould 
stories,"  says  Echo  at  the  bow. 

"Did  you  ever  happen  to  hear  what  they 
called  the  King  of  the  fairies  ?  "  I  ask — curious 
to  know  whether  the  Don  Fierna  of  the  Black- 
water  and  the  south  reigned  also  in  these 
western  wilds. 

But  Patsy  was  puzzled.  Then  he  turned  to 
Tim  Mulcahy,  and  there  was  a  long  consultation 
in  Irish,  in  the  course  of  which  a  phrase 
sounding  like  Pidbara-Shee  was  twice  repeated. 

"  Had  they  a  fairy-piper,  then,  Tatsy  ?  " 

"  Begob  ! "  says  Patsy  eagerly,  "  that  was  him. 
The  Fairy  Piper  was  the  King  of  thim,  and 
manny  a  one  has  heard  him  playing  in  that  very 
house  there.  I  mane  that  was  the  ould  story, 
sorr — but  sure  'tis  all  nonsinse." 

And  now  ensued  a  long  and  rambling  general 


OF  PATSY  CONG  163 

conversation,  which  need  not  be  set  down  here, 
on  the  subject  of  fairies,  phantoms,  leprechauns, 
and  similar  kittle  cattle ;  throughout  which 
Patsy  was  evidently  anxious  to  show  that  he 
had  discarded  all  such  superstitions.  Was  it  for 
one  who  lived  in  an  age  of  reason — who  had 
worked  on  the  Union  Pacific — to  heed  such 
folly  ?  Nevertheless,  Patsy  was  frankly  dis- 
posed to  admit  that  strange  things  might  have 
happened — probably  did  happen — in  former 
times. 

"There  was  a  power  of  witchery  in  this 
country  in  the  ould  days,"  said  Patsy,  gravely 
shaking  his  head  ;  "  yis,  sorr,  there  was  a  power 
of  witchery  in  this  country  in  the  ould  days ; 
but  'tis  all  gone  away.  Sure  the  people  are 
turned  more  cunning  now." 

And  then  he  added,  more  gloomily — 

"  But  maybe  there's  more  going  on  than  we 
know." 

By  this  time  it  had  become  pretty  obvious 
that  Patsy's  eagerness  to  disclaim  all  belief  in 
ghosts  and  witchery  and  the  like  was  assumed — 
partly,  no  doubt,  in  prudent  deference  to  the 
general  opinion  of  a  scientific  and  sceptical  age, 
but  partly,  perhaps,  because  a  man  who  had 

M  2 


164       THE  SUPERNATURAL  EXPERIENCES 

been  to  Pittsburg  felt  bound  to  pose  before  a 
poor  creature  like  Tim  Mulcahy,  who  had  never 
left  his  native  mountains.  And  so,  to  find  out 
whether  Patsy  might  not  have  some  reciprocal 
confidences  to  volunteer,  I  told  him  my  own 
ghost  story,  which  isn't  much  of  a  ghost  story 
after  all.  That  'a  lad  of  thirteen  or  fourteen 
should  look  in  at  the  open  door  of  a  dining-room 
and  behold  there  a  woman  seated  before  the 
fire ;  that  he  should  carefully  regard  her  shawl, 
and  hat,  and  gown,  wondering  who  she  could 
be  ;  that  he  should  forthwith  go  and  ask  the 
other  people  in  the  house,  and  bring  them  to 
the  door  of  the  room,  only  to  discover  that  the 
chair  was  vacant,  and  that  by  no  possibility 
could  any  stranger  have  been  there  and  left ; 
and  then  to  find  that  this  portent  was  followed 
by  no  calamity  whatever — neither  a  funeral  nor 
a  wedding  nor  anything — this,  it  must  be  con- 
fessed, was  a  poor  and  weak  ghost  story,  which 
I  should  be  ashamed  to  say  a  word  about  to  the 
Psychical  Society.  But  it  deeply  interested 
Patsy,  and  he  was  eager  to  know  whether  it  was 
a  real  ghost,  and  when  I  answered  that  of  course  it 
was  only  an  optical  illusion,  he  remained  silent 
for  a  time,  and  then  repeated  his  wise  aphorism— 


OF  PATSY  CONG  165 

"Maybe  there's  more  going  on  than  we 
3mow." 

Again  Patsy  was  silent  for  a  time  ;  and  then, 
rather  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  is  compelled  to 
confess  something  against  his  will,  he  said — • 

"  Well,  sorr,  now  that  we're  on  it,  I  will  tell 
you  what  happened  to  me;  |but  I  don't  like 
spaking  of  it — the  less  that's  said  the  better — 
but  I  will  tell  you  what  happened  to  me,  sorr ; 
and  it's  manny  the  year  since  I  tould  any  one  the 
story.  I  was  nineteen  at  the  time.  My  mother 
and  me,  we  had  gone  to  the  fair  of  Letterna- 
hinch  to  sell  two  sheep,  and  there  we  were  all 
day,  and  the  divil  a  bit  could  we  sell  the  sheep. 
6  No  matter,  Patsy,'  said  my  mother  to  me,  at  the 
ind  of  the  day,  'you'll  buy  yourself  the  pair  of 
new  boots  all  the  same,  for  who  knows  when  we'll 
next  be  in  at  Letternahinch  from  the  farm  ? ' 
And  so  I  bought  the  pair  of  boots — and  mighty 
proud  I  was  of  thim,  sorr,  you  may  be  sure  ;  and 
I  kept  them  on  during  the  evening,  until  it  was 
time  for  us  to  set  out  to  walk  back  to  the  farm, 
for  the  divil  an  offer  could  we  get  for  the  sheep, 
Well,  now,  sorr,  about  tree  miles  from  Letterna- 
hinch— or  maybe  'tis  tree  miles  and  a  half — 
there's  a  wood — and  a  dark  wood  it  was  that 


166       THE  SUPERNA  TURAL  EXPERIENCES 

night,  though  it  was  a  moonlight  night,  and  the 
road  as  white  as  silver — and  says  I,  'Mother, 
the  new  boots  are  hurting  my  feet;  wait  a 
minute  now  and  I'll  take  them  off/  But  she 
went  on  with  the  sheep,  and  I  was  sitting  down 
at  the  edge  of  the  wood  taking  off  the  boots, 
whin  there  was  a  noise,  and  something  rushed 
at  me  from  the  wood  and  hit  me  a  slap,  and 
went  by.  Sure  I  hope  your  honour  '11  niver 
see  anything  like  that  terrible  beast.  'Twas  in 
the  road  now,  and  I  was  up,  with  the  boots  in 
one  hand,  and  a  little  bit  of  a  stick  in  the  other, 
and  I  kept  threatening  it  when  it  came  near  to 
attack  me.  I  called  out  to  my  mother,  but  she 
was  frightened  too  ;  she  wouldn't  look  back. 
c  Come  an,  Patsy,  come  an  ! '  she  cried  to  me  ; 
and  I  dursn't  run  for  fear  of  the  beast." 

"  But  what  was  it  like,  Patsy  ? " 

"  Well,  sorr,  I  will  make  you  sinsible  of  it ; 
though  I  was  all  of  a  thrimble,  for  it  followed 
me  along  the  road,  and  sometimes  'twas  in  the 
ditch,  and  when  I  couldn't  see  it  I  heard  it,  and 
my  mother  heard  it,  and  she  was  as  terrified  as  I 
was.  'Twas  about  four  or  five  feet  long — yis, 
sorr,  maybe  five  feet  it  was — and  red,  and  when 
it  put  up  its  head,  'twas  like  to  strike  at  me  like 


OF  PATSY  CONG  167 

a  snake  ;  but  I  had  a  bit  of  a  stick  in  my  hand, 
and  I  kept  that  turned  to  it.  Maybe  it  had 
legs,  but  I  could  see  none ;  and  the  body — well 
now,  the  body  was  about  the  thickness  of  a  thin 
dog,  long  and  thin  it  was — and  the  noise  it 
made  was  terrible,  terrible.  Well,  now,  sorr, 
maybe  it  was  a  fancy.  I  understand  that. 
Maybe  it  was  something  in  my  own  head — like 
a  fever.  But  manny  and  manny  is  the  time  I 
have  thought  over  it ;  and  what  bothers  me 
intirely  is  that  my  mother  should  have  heard  it 
when  it  was  growling  at  me  in  the  ditch." 

Even  now  the  recollection  of  this  strange 
thing  seemed  to  overshadow  Patsy  with  fear 
and  trembling.  His  eyes  were  distraught ;  and 
he  spoke  like  one  speaking  to  himself,  and 
describing  something  that  he  actually  saw 
before  him. 

"'Twasn't  the  size  of  it,  your  honour,  that 
frightened  me ;  sure  it  couldn't  reach  at  me 
higher  than  the  knee,  when  it  put  up  its  head  as 
if  it  would  strike  me ;  but  there  was  something 
terrible  about  it  that  made  me  thrimble  from 
me  head  to  me  foot.  And  whin  I  put  down 
my  stick  it  would  keep  back,  running  along  by 
the  side  o'  me,  but  always  wid  its  head  turned 


168        THE  SUPERNATURAL  EXPERIENCES 

to  me,  'and  threatening ;  and  sure  I  was  afraid 
to  strike  it,  if  I  had  had  the  power,  but  I  was 
wake  with  the  thrimbling ;  and  my  mother  she 
wouldn't  look  back — 'twas  a  God's  truth,  your 
honour,  I  never  was  in  such  a  fright  as  that 
night.  And  thin,  whin  it  left  the  road  for  a 
while,  I  knew  it  was  there  still  all  the  time,  by 
hearing  of  its  growling  at  me;  and  at  such 
times,  whin  it  was  in  the  ditch,  I  would  have 
hurried  on  faster,  and  got  up  to  my  mother,  but 
my  legs  were  wake  with  the  fright,  and  sure  I 
was  afraid  it  would  come  up  behind  me  if  I  was 
to  run.  There  now,  sorr,  there  may  be  an 
explanation — I  will  not  say  no  to  that ;  maybe 
'twas  a  kind  of  fever  in  my  head  ;  but  sure  that 
couldn't  have  made  my  mother  hear  the  beast 
whin  it  was  growling  at  me  in  the  ditch,  and 
made  her  hurry  on  too,  for  she  was  too  fright- 
ened to  look  back  ? " 

"  But  you  haven't  finished  the  story,  Patsy  : 
what  became  of  the  beast  \  " 

"  Well,  'twas  a  terrible  night,  your  honour, 
and  that's  a  fact.  I  thought  we  would  never 
get  to  the  farm,  though  my  mother  kept  ahead 
of  me  with  the  sheep,  and  I  was  afraid  to  over- 
take her,  for  fear  of  giving  the  beast  a  chance  at 


OF  PATSY  CONG  169 

me.  Sure  I  think  it  must  have  been  between 
one  or  two  in  the  morning  when  we  got  up  to 
the  farm ;  and  the  beast  kept  following  me — 
sometimes  in  sight,  and  sometimes  in  the  ditch 
— all  the  way,  until  we  were  nearly  at  the  door  ; 
and  then  it  turned  and  went  away  down  the  hill 
again,  and  I  saw  it  as  far  as  the  lake,  but  there 
I  lost  sight  av  it.  Divil  the  wink  of  sleep  did 
I  get  that  night,  you  may  be  sure,  sorr;  and 
the  next  day  my  mother  cautioned  me  not  to 
spake  of  it  to  anny  one,  for  fear  of  bad  luck. 
Now,  sorr,  I  will  tell  you  something  more  about 

that  same  beast " 

But  just  at  this  moment,  as  it  happened,  the 
supernatural  world  got  sudden  notice  to  quit. 
There  was  a  sharp,  shrill  shriek  of  the  reel ; 
instantly  the  rod  was  seized  and  raised ;  and 
then,  forty  yards  away  behind  the  boat,  a  crea- 
ture— that  seemed  to  the  excited  imagination 
about  as  long  as  the  beast  that  Patsy  had  seen 
on  the  Letternahinch  road — sprung  into  the  air 
and  fell  back  again  with  a  mighty  splash. 
Visionary  monsters  had  to  give  way  to  this  very 
actual  animal  that  was  now  carrying  on  a  series 
of  unseen  cantrips  in  the  still  waters  of  the 
lake,  Patsy  regarded  the  stand-up  fight  with 


i?o       THE  SUPERNATURAL  EXPERIENCES 

comparative  indifference ;  his  ministrations  were 
not  needed  yet,  and  apparently  he  had  no  doubt 
of  the  result.  Nor,  indeed,  with  any  ordinary 
care,  ought  there  to  have  been  any  doubt  of  the 
result ;  for  the  fish  was  hooked  with  a  phantom 
minnow,  the  tackle  was  tested,  and  the  rod  was 
a  brand-new  one,  powerful  enough  to  have 
hauled  out  a  horse.  But  whoever  thinks  that 
fighting  a  salmon  in  such  circumstances  is  too 
certain  a  thing,  can  have  all  the  excitement  he 
wants  by  importing  into  it  two  further  con- 
ditions. First,  let  him  have  for  his  second  boat- 
man a  person  who,  to  use  the  American  phrase, 
comprises  within  himself  nine  different  sorts  of 
a  born  fool ;  and  then  let  him  have  for  his  chief 
boatman  a  superhumanly  smart  fellow  (who  has 
been  to  Pittsburg,  and  all  the  rest  of  it)  and 
who  is  far  too  clever  to  gaff  the  salmon  in  the 
ordinary  way,  but  who  must  needs  make  a 
plunging  shot  at  the  gill.  When  the  twenty 
minutes  or  five-and-twenty  minutes  are  over, 
and  when  the  fish  is  being  towed  gradually 
nearer  and  nearer  to  the  boat,  then  the  angler 
will  have  quite  enough  of  excitement — there 
will  be  no  lack  whatsoever  of  excitement.  For, 
of  course,  when  the  fish  happens  to  sheer  along 


OF  PATSY  CONG  171 

the  side  of  the  boat,  the  nine-ply  fool  at  the  bow 
has  his  oar  resting  on  the  water ;  and  when  he 
is  yelled  to  to  lift  his  oar,  of  course  he  tries  to 
draw  it  in  ;  and  of  course  the  handle  catches  in 
the  opposite  gunwale ;  and  of  course  the  blade 
goes  rasping  across  the  now  tightened  line ; 
while  the  language  that  suddenly  fills  the  air 
becomes  emphatic  and  figurative.  Then  the 
smart  gentleman,  to  save  the  fish  from  the 
slight  scar  left  by  the  ordinary  method  of  gaff- 
ing, must  perforce  try  for  the  gill ;  he  misses  it, 
and  strikes  the  line ;  the  fish  plunges,  and  there 
is  a  pause  of  breathless  despair.  However,  the 
upshot  on  this  occasion,  as  it  turns  out,  is  more 
lucky  than  we  have  any  right  to  expect,  for  after 
these  twin  stupidities,  the  frayed  casting-line 
still  holds ;  the  olive-green  back  of  the  salmon 
by  and  by  comes  nearer  the  surface  of  the  water, 
slowly  and  ineffectually  heading  this  way  and 
that ;  and  then  there  is  a  quick  dive  of  the 
sharp  steel  gaff,  and  the  next  second  there  is  in 
the  bottom  of  the  boat  a  splendid  large  gleaming 
creature — no  longer  showing  anything  of  olive- 
green,  but  all  a  flashing  and  glowing  bronze-blue 
and  silver.  Of  course  at  such  a  moment  there  can 
be  nothing  but  reconciliation  and  forgiveness. 


l^^        THE  SUPERNATURAL  EXPERIENCES 

"  Well,  sorr,"  says  Patsy  from  the  deeps  of 
his  penitence,  "  when  I  missed  him  I  felt  sick." 

And  now  the  redintegratio  amoris  and  the 
capture  of  the  fish  alike  call  for  a  modest  liba- 
tion ;  and  presently,  with  a  repetition  of  the 
accustomed  toasts,  "  Good  sport  to  your  honour  !" 
"  A  tight  line  to  your  honour  !"  we  are  again  on 
our  way  round  the  lake,  leisurely  paying  out 
the  long  line,  and  quite  ready  to  hear  further 
about  the  red  beast  of  Letternahinch. 

"  Yes,  sorr,"  says  Patsy,  "  and  this  is  the 
strangest  part  av  it.  Sure  if  no  one  had  seen 
the  beast  but  mesilf,  one  would  say  it  was  a 
drame,  or  what  a  man  sees  in  a  fever.  But  it 
wasn't  the  drink,  anny  way.  When  I  was  a 
young  fellow  the  divil  a  drop  would  I  touch  ;  I 
wouldn't  have  drunk  a  glass  of  whisky  if  my 
throat  had  been  as  dhry  as  a  limeburner's  wig. 
But  now  I'll  tell  your  honour  what  happened 
after  that.  'Twas  six  months  after — six  or  seven 
months  after.  My  mother  and  me  we  had  not 
been  speaking  about  wrhat  had  happened  on  the 
Letternahinch  road,  for  the  fright  was  on  me 
for  manny  and  manny  a  day ;  and  my  mother 
would  never  spake  of  it  either,  for  fear  of  bad 
luck.  Well,  sorr,  one  evening  I  was  going  into 


OF  PATSY  CONG  1^3 

the  house — 'twas  about  supper-time — and  I  was 
thinking  of  nawthin'  but  that ;  and  the  door 
inside  was  a  bit  open.  Well,  sorr,  there  was  a 
woman  standing  talking  to  my  mother — well  I 
knew  the  woman,  she  lived  at  Maskene — that 
was  about  eight  miles  further  on  the  road — and 
my  mother  was  asking  her  to  sit  down  and  rest 
herself,  for  'twas  a  long  way  to  go,  and  she  had 
not  passed  our  way  for  manny  and  manny  a 
day.  '  Thank  ye  kindly,  Mrs.  Cong,'  says  she, 
*  but  'tis  a  lonely  road  to  Maskene,  and  I  am 
frightened  to  be  out  after  dark  since  what  hap- 
pened to  me  at  Letternahinch.'  Begob,  sorr, 
you  may  suppose  I  listened  thin  ;  and  her  back 
was  to  me  so  that  she  couldn't  see  me,  and  my 
mother  couldn't  see  me  nayther  because  of  the 
door.  Well,  sorr,  what  she  said  was  that  two 
years  before  she  had  been  in  at  the  market  at 
Letternahinch,  and  she  had  a  power  o'  things  to 
carry ;  and  so  she  waited  for  the  night  mail-car, 
that  would  put  her  down  within  a  mile  or  so  of 
Maskene.  She  was  on  the  back-seat  of  the  car, 
and  there  was  no  one  else  but  the  driver ;  and 
-  twas  a  fine  clear  night.  Well,  sorr,  she  declared 
that  whin  they  were  passing  a  wood  about  three 
miles  from  Ballynahinch,  a  terrible  beast  sprung 


174       THE  SUPERNATURAL  EXPERIENCES 

out  of  the  wood  and  sprung  right  into  the  car, 
and  stopped  there  beside  her,  and  the  divil  a 
word  or  a  cry  could  she  get  out,  for  the  fright 
that  was  on  her.  How  long  the  beast  stopped 
in  the  car  she  did  not  say  ;  nor  was  she  saying 
annything  of  what  it  was  like ;  and  my  mother 
seemed  too  frightened  to  ask  her  any  questions. 
But  that  was  the  reason  she  made  to  my  mother 
for  going  on  in  the  daylight ;  and  not  a  minute 
longer  would  she  stop  in  the  house.  Now,  sorr, 
what  can  anny  one  make  of  that  ?  That  was  a 
year  and  a  half  before  what  happened  to  me, 
and  at  the  very  same  part  of  the  road." 

"  You  hadn't  heard  the  woman's  story  before, 
Patsy,  and  forgotten  it  ?  It  wasn't  the  coming 
to  the  wood  on  the  Letternahinch  road  that 
suddenly  brought  it  back  to  your  mind  and 
frightened  you  ? " 

"  Aw,  the  divil  a  bit,  sorr  !  Sure  I  asked  my 
mother  about  it,  and  'twas  thin  for  the  first  time 
she  heard  of  it  too,  though  'twas  mighty  little 
you'd  get  her  to  spake  about  it.  "Well,  sorr,  that 
is  all  I  know  av  it,  and  'tis  there  I'll  lave  it ;  but 
depind  on  it,  sorr,  there's  more  going  on  than  we 
know." 

This,  Patsy's  favourite  maxim,  seemed  to  both 


OF  PATSY  CONG  175 

his  companions  so  incontrovertible  that  they  ac- 
quiesced in  silence.  As  for  Patsy  himself,  he 
seemed  rather  glad  to  get  away  from  those  me- 
mories. A  kind  of  gloom  had  hung  over  him 
while  he  was  recalling  the  various  particulars ; 
perhaps  he  shared  his  mother's  fear  that  no  good 
would  come  of  speaking  of  such  matters.  At  all 
events,  as  soon  as  he  began  to  talk  of  legends 
and  stories  and  superstitions  in  which  he  was  not 
personally  concerned,  he  quite  recovered  his 
ordinary  cheerfulness  of  tone  ;  indeed  when  he 
came  to  treat  of  the  water-horses  that  used  to 
haunt  these  lakes  he  spoke  in  quite  a  jaunty  and 
matter-of-fact  way,  as  if  their  existence  "  in  the 
ould  days"  admitted  of  no  manner  of  doubt 
whatever.  Of  course  I  was  not  surprised  to  find 
the  water-horse  myth  as  common  here  as  it  is  in 
my  own  country,  where  every  other  loch  has  its 
circumstantial  legend ;  *  but  the  curious  thing 
about  the  Connemara  water-horses  is  that  they 
are  reported  to  have  interbred  freely  with  the 
farm-horses  around,  and  that  the  offspring  were 
put  to  work  on  the  farm  as  an  ordinary  affair. 
But  they  were  lazy  animals,  these  half-breeds, 

*  See  J.  F.  Campbell's  Tales  of  the   West  Highlands, 
vol.  iv 


176       THE  SUPERNATURAL  EXPERIENCES 

and  not  to  be  depended  on  whenever  they  caine 
near  a  lake,  for  then,  unless  the  farmer  was  on 
the  watch,  they  would  most  likely  make  a 
bolt  for  the  water,  irrespective  of  what  was 
behind  them.  In  fact,  there  was  a  young 
animal  of  this  uncanny  blood  employed  on  a 
farm  belonging  to  Patsy's  uncle ;  and  one 
day  it  did  make  such  a  bolt,  and  was  only 
prevented  from  plunging  itself,  and  the  car, 
and  the  driver,  into  a  lake  by  the  traces  fortu- 
nately hitching  (how,  was  not  explained)  on  a 
rock. 

I  wonder  if  it  was  this  same  uncle  who  was 

the  hero  of  Patsy  Cong's  next  story.  By  this 
time,  it  may  be  unnecessary  to  say,  I  had  come 
to  regard  my  friend  Patsy  as  a  rank  impostor. 
His  Transatlantic  experiences  may  have  given 
him  a  thin  veneer  of  scepticism,  which  he  thought 
it  fine  to  parade  before  the  simple  dwellers  among 
the  hills ;  but  underneath  that  and  deep  down  in 
his  nature  there  obviously  remained  the  ineradi- 
cable Celtic  belief  in  a  mysterious  and  magical 
world,  just  hidden,  and  no  more  than  hidden, 
by  the  visible  phenomena  around.  Patsy  was 
clearly  thrown  away  in  Connemara.  If  only 
he  had  belonged  to  the  wealthier  classes,  if  he 


OF  PAT^Y  CONG  177 

had  been  brought  up  in  a  library,  and  got 
his  brains  bemuddled  with  neo-Platonism  and 
port  wine,  there  is  no  saying  to  what  emi- 
nence he  might  not  have  risen  as  a  writer  of 
sentimental  history  or  the  constructor  of  a  new 
ethical  system.  Here  the  gates  were  ajar  to 
no  purpose.  Here  he  was  tied  down  to  the 
telling  of  old  wives'  tales  about  water-horses 
and  the  like. 

"  There's  more  going  on  than  we  know,"  says 
Patsy,  surveying  the  still  blue  waters  of  the  lake 
in  an  absent  kind  of  way.  "  I'm  sure  of  that, 
sorr.  It's  a  positive  fact.  Maybe  I  wouldn't 
belave  all  the  stories  that  are  tould,  but  there's 
something — there's  something.  There  was  my 
uncle,  now,  that  lived  at  Kincree ;  and  he  used 
to  be  going  down  to  the  sayshore,  coortin'  the 
young  woman  that  he  was  to  marry.  Well,  one 
evening  as  he  was  coming  back,  he  stopped  to 
talk  to  some  min  that  were  blasting  rocks  near 
the  roadside  ;  and  I  don't  know  how  it  was,  but 
there  was  a  quarrel  and  a  fight,  and  one  of  the 
mill  he  takes  up  the  blasting  rod  and  hits  my 
uncle  with  it  over  the  head,  and  there  he  was,  a 
dead  man.  Well,  sorr,  it  was  about  a  year  after 
my  uncle  was  killed  there  that  a  woman  living 

N 


i;8   THE  SUPERNA  TURAL  EXPERIENCES 

close  by  in  the  neighbourhood  went  out  from  her 
cabin  with  a  milking-pail  in  her  hand,  and  went 
up  the  hillside  to  milk  the  cows.  They  saw  her 
go  up — more  than  one  saw  her  go  away — and 
she  was  quite  alone  by  herself.  Well,  sorr,  she 
didn't  come  down  again,  and  they  got  frightened, 
and  they  went  in  search  of  her,  and  the  divil  a 
sight  of  her  could  they  find  annywhere.  Well, 
now,  your  honour,  this  is  the  story  av  it ;  sure, 
I'm  only  saying  what  I  was  tould  about  it,  and 
what  every  one  about  there  belaves  until  this 
day.  'Twas  on  the  evening  of  the  third  day 
after  that  that  she  came  down  again — looking 
very  quare  she  was — and  she  said  she  had  met 
the  man  that  was  murdered  the  year  before — 
sure,  that  was  my  uncle — and  he  had  taken  her 
away  with  him  over  the  hills,  she  could  not  tell 
where.  I  don't  know  what  to  make  av  it ;  but 
'twas  a  strange  story  annyhow." 

"  Patsy,"  remarks  one  of  the  two  listeners, 
"  was  there  a  bothan  dubh  in  those  hills  ?  " 

"  What's  that,  sorr  ? " 

"  What  they  call  in  Scotland  a  black  bothy* 
— an  illicit  still.  Weren't  they  brewing  a 

*  It  is  said  that  the  "  black  bothies  "  have  considerably 
increased  in  number  of  late  years  in  several  districts  of  the 


OF  PATSY  CONG  179 

little  potheen  up  in  the  hills,  and  glad  to 
get  the  woman  to  help  them  for  a  day  or 
two  ? " 

"I  don't  know  about  that,  sorr,"  said 
Patsy.  "  But  annyhow,  she  was  never  the 
same  woman  after  it — no,  sorr — there  was 
always  something  weighing  on  her  mind,  and 
she  never  got  the  better  of  it.  J  suppose  she's 
dead  now." 

Here  Patsy  paused,  and  had  a  look  round  the 
sky,  for  there  had  been  some  faint  indications 
that  we  might  after  all  get  a  breath  of  wind ; 
and  then,  still  working  away  at  the  easy  oar,  he 
continued  : 

"  No,  sorr,  I  say  nawthin'  about  thim  stories 
but  that  they  were  tould  to  me.  What  hap- 
pened to  mesilf  on  the  Letternahinch  road,  that 
was  different — begob,  Fm  not  likely  to  forget 
that.  But  there  was  something  that  happened 
to  my  father  that  was  strange  too,  and  I  know 
he  wouldn't  tell  a  lie  about  it." 

"  Your  father  was  a  good  man,  Patsy,  he 
wouldn't  tell  a  lie  about  hardly  annything,"  says 
the  meek  Chorus. 


Highlands,  despite  the  successive  raids  of  the  supervisors  of 
the  Inland  Revenue. 

N    2 


i8o       THE  SUPERNATURAL  EXPERIENCES 

"  'Twas  whin  I  was  a  boy,  but  well  I  re- 
mimber  it,"  says  Patsy.  "  He  was  at  work  on 
the  farm,  and  my  sister  had  to  carry  him  his 
dinner,  and  they  sate  down  on  the  side  of  a 
little  hill  where  it  was  too  rough  and  rocky  for 
digging — the  divil  a  thing  could  a  spade  do  wid 
it.  Well,  sorr,  there  was  a  woman  coming 
along  the  road  that  knew  my  father,  and  she 
sate  down  wid  them  for  a  minute  or  two,  to  put 
the  basket  off  her  shoulders,  and  there  they  were 
sitting  whin  they  heard  people  speaking  below 
them  inside  the  hill.  Oh,  as  clear  as  annything 
they  heard  the  voices  below  the  ground,  so  the 
woman  tould  me,  for  I  met  her  as  I  was  going 
to  the  field  not  five  minutes  after.  And  says 
she,  '  Patsy,  ask  your  father  was  he  hearing 
annything  when  your  sister  and  him  and  me 
were  sitting  on  the  hill/  Well,  sorr,  I  went 
along,  and  there  was  my  father  at  his  work 
again ;  and  I  went  down  to  him,  and  asked  him 
about  what  the  woman  tould  me.  '  Yes,  Patsy, 
true  it  is/  says  he,  '  but  it  is  not  a  thing  to  be 
spaking  about ; '  and  he  wouldn't  answer  no 
more  questions.  No,  sorr,  not  thin  nor  at  anny 
other  time  ;  he  would  be  getting  angry  wid  us 
when  we  were  afther  asking  him  anny  questions 


OF  PATSY  CONG  181 

about  it.  Sure,  sorr,  there  must  be  somethin' 
in  it.  The  woman  might  be  making  up  a  story 
to  frighten  us  childer,  but  my  father  wouldn't 
tell  a  lie  about  it.  There's  something  going  on, 
sorr,  and  that's  the  truth.  It's  a  positive  fact. 
And  if  the  ould  witchery  has  gone  away  from 
the  country,  since  the  people  are  more  cunning 
now,  still,  there  may  be  other  things  that  we 
don't  know.  That's  true,  sorr,  that's  a  positive 
fact.  But  what  does  your  honour  think  av  it, 
if  I  may  be  so  bould  as  to  ask  ? " 

But  now  there  is  something  far  more  stirring 
ahead  than  clattering  dry  bones  of  discussion  or 
weaving  impalpable  webs  of  theory  ;  for  the  little 
varying  puffs  of  wind  have  been  gradually 
increasing  to  a  good,  steady,  honest  breeze ; 
quickly  it  is  resolved  (seeing  that  Patsy's  ex- 
periences of  the  supernatural  have  carried  us  on 
till  near  lunch-time,  and  the  process  of  landing, 
collecting  sticks,  lighting  a  fire,  and  cooking  our 
pot  of  Irish  stew  is  a  tedious  one)  to  have  a 
final  try  with  the  fly  before  the  picnic  begins  ; 
so  the  long  line  is  rapidly  got  in  ;  the  minnow 
and  trace  detached  ;  there  is  a  word  or  so  about 
the  rival  claims  of  a  "  Harlequin,"  a  "  Gray 
Monkey,"  and  the  shining  "  Flower  of  Kelso  ; " 


1 82  EXPERIENCES  OF  PATSY  CONG. 

ultimately  these  are  all  discarded  in  favour'  of 
the  old,  familiar,  and  ubiquitous  "  Jock  Scott ;  " 
and  presently  we  are  making  our  way  across  the 
now  ruffled  bosom  of  the  lake  to  try  our  luck  in 
the  plashing  and  whirling  waters  of  the  Butt  of 
Derryclare. 


AN  APRIL  DAY  ON  THE  OYKEL. 


AN  APEIL  DAY  ON  THE  OYKEL. 


VERY  leisurely  indeed,  on  this  fair  morning,  do 
we  leave  the  lodge  and  wander  down  to  the 
river;  for  although  the  stream  is  in  excellent 
order,  and  there  is  a  soft  west  wind  blowing, 
there  is  a  blaze  of  sunlight  abroad  that  puts  fish- 
ing entirely  out  of  the  question.  And  even  if 
we  have  to  wait  for  the  lengthening  shadows  of 
the  afternoon  before  a  single  cast  is  made,  it  will 
be  no  difficult  task  to  let  the  idle  hours  go  by. 
To  live  is  enough — amid  all  these  beautiful 
things.  For  in  Eoss-shire  a  bright  day  in  April 
is  the  very  crown  and  glory  of  the  year,  so  far 
"as  colour  is  concerned — the  far-stretching  hills 
are  of  a  soft,  rich  russet,  broken  here  and  there 
by  the  deep  green  of  a  clump  of  pines  ;  the  leaf- 
less birches  that  line  each  ascending  corrie  are  of 
a  dark  rose  lilac ;  while  nearer  at  hand  are  silver- 
grey  rocks,  heathery  knolls,  and  woods  carpeted 


1 86  AN  APRIL  DA  Y  ON  THE  OYKEL 

with  the  crimson  and  yellow  of  bracken  and 
withered  grass.  Then  the  river  itself  is  of 
perpetual  interest — its  long,  silver  stretches  ;  its 
narrow  chasms  with  the  water  boiling  and  foam- 
ing in  tawny  masses ;  its  shallows  with  the 
sunlight  chasing  the  ripples  over  the  golden 
sand ;  its  dark  and  oily  pools,  purple-blue  for 
the  most  part,  but  with  every  eddy  and  wavelet 
showing  a  reflection 'of  light  olive-green  from  the 
opposite  bank.  Supposing  that  no  fishing  is 
practicable,  how  can  one  be  better  employed  by 
the  side  of  such  a  stream  than  in  forming  a  series 
of  little  cabinet  pictures,  and  printing  them  into 
the  memory,  so  that,  in  far  other  times  and 
places — when  Miss  Inanity  is  talking  at  dinner, 
or  when  Behemoth  has  become  blatant  over  the 
claret — one  can  quietly  slip  away  and  gaze  upon 
the  Eock  Pool  again ?  "I  have  found  a  refuge 
in  my  trouble ;  and  the  wicked  shall  not 
prevail." 

To  be  sure,  luncheon  comes  in  as  a  not  un- 
welcome break.  My  companion  on  this  occasion 
is  a  young  artist-friend,  who,  after  long  periods 
of  meditative  silence  (no  doubt  he  is  wondering 
by  what  miracle  Winsor  and  Newton  are  going 
to  yield  him  those  flashing  lights  and  brilliant 


AN  APRIL  DAY  ON  THE  OYKEL  187 

hues  all  around  him),  betrays  a  merry  and  an 
antic  humour,  especially  when  his  pipe  has  been 
lit ;  and  we  are  in  no  hurry  to  move.  Our  gillie 
(the  League  and  Covenant,  we  call  him,  because 
of  his  superlative  solemnity)  has  also  betaken 
himself  to  tobacco,  by  the  side  of  a  knoll  on 
which  the  two  Castle-Connells  and  the  gaff 
shine  conspicuous.  It  seems  useless  to  look  at 
the  sky.  Now  and  again,  indeed,  a  bit  of  silver 
cloud  comes  sailing  slowly  over  from  the  west; 
but  as  it  nears  the  sun,  it  either  melts  away 
into  nothingness,  or  separates  and  goes  off 
into  useless  shreds.  We  watch  a  water-ousel, 
skipping  from  stone  to  stone.  We  follow  the 
circling  and  hovering  of  a  pair  of  kestrels  high 
in  air,  and  would  fain  bid  them  beware  of  Master 
Hugh  and  his  traps.  And  then  we  turn  to 
legends  and  the  days  and  deeds  of  old  ;  for  right 
down  below  us  is  the  rock  at  which  a  fish  fell 
away  from  a  fly  just  as  the  gaff  was  being  put 
out — fell  away  and  floated  away,  so  exhausted 
that  he  could  not  even  give  us  a  parting  and 
derisive  wag  of  his  tail ;  and  over  there  is  the 
run  in  which  the  eighteen-pounder  sulked  and 
sulked  until  the  evening  closed  in,  he  eventually 
having  to  be  gaffed  in  the  dark,  by  the  exercise 


i8S  AJV  APRIL  DAY  ON  TtiE  OYK&L 

of  some  superhuman  instinct  on  the  part  of 
Andrew;  while  up  yonder  is  the  bush  under 
which  a  hooked  salmon  took  refuge,  refusing 
to  be  dislodged  until  old  Eobert  sprung  up  on 
the  bank,  with  his  arms  extended  like  a  sema- 
phore. Again  the  reel  screams ;  again  the 
white  wonder  leaps  into  the  air;  each  and 
every  incident  of  the  long-protracted  struggle 
comes  back  again.  This  is  another  of  those 
inestimable  mental  pictures  that  time  cannot 
destroy. 

As  the  afternoon  creeps  on,  the  colours  of  the 
hills  become  richer  and  richer ;  the  russet  is 
tending  to  rose  ;  while  the  blue  and  silver  of 
the  stream  remain  as  clear  and  shining  as  ever. 
But  suddenly  a  new  feature  is  introduced  into 
the  landscape.  On  the  dark  slopes  beyond  the 
river  a  sharp  gleam  of  rose-hued  flame  appears. 
It  spreads,  at  first  slowly  and  flickeringly  ;  then 
the  wind  catches  it,  and  sweeps  it  onward,  until 
knoll  after  knoll  is  one  sheet  of  crimson  fire,  and 
volumes  of  smoke  are  rolling  away  across  the 
valley.  The  heather  has  been  set  alight  by  a 
shepherd  ;  and  soon  there  is  a  wide  sea  of  flame, 
the  crimson  waves  blown  by  the  wind ;  while  a 
curious  fluffing  noise,  like  the  sound  of  a  plover's 


AN  APRIL  DA  Y  ON  THE  OYKEL  189 

wings,  becomes  audible,  along  with,  the  crackling 
and  spluttering  of  the  stems  and  twigs.  Opal- 
escent the  smoke  is,  and  the  transfiguration  it 
effects  on  the  distant  hills  and  clouds  that  shine 
through  it  is  most  extraordinary.  For  there  are 
clouds  up  there  in  the  north,  though  none  will 
come  our  way — clouds,  massive  and  storm- 
portending  ;  a  blaze  of  saffron  some  of  them,  as 
if  they  were  gazing  out  upon  the  western  sea, 
over  the  peaks  of  Suilven  and  Canisp.  No ;  in 
our  direction  not  one  shred  or  tatter  comes 
along  ;  there  is  nothing  for  it  but  to  wait  for  the 
going  down  of  the  sun  ;  and  so  we  wander  idly 
away  back  again  to  the  Eock  Pool,  which  will 
first  of  all  be  in  shadow. 

Fishing  begins  about  half-past  five,  my  young 
friend  going  down  to  the  lower  waters  of  the 
pool  and  I  taking  the  upper.  The  Eock  Pool 
altogether  is  about  the  likeliest-looking  stretch 
of  a  salmon  river  that  the  mind  of  man  could 
conceive  (and  many  a  good  fish  has  come,  and 
will  come,  out  of  it),  with  its  oily,  black  swirls 
and  its  spaces  of  lapping  current ;  but  the  head 
of  it,  it  must  be  admitted,  is  a  difficult  place  to 
fish.  The  banks  behind  are  almost  sheer,  and 
then  there  are  innocent  little  birch-bushes 


igo  AN  APRIL  DAY  ON  THE  OYKEL 

projecting  over  the  water  in  a  delightful  kind  of 
way  that  Mr.  Alfred  Parsons  would  very  much 
admire,  but  that  are  fatal  to  any  careless  cast. 
I  should  think  the  flies  that  have  been  hung  up 
on  those  bushes  must  be  about  as  numerous  as 
the  sets  of  indifferent  verses  that  Orlando  pinned 
upon  the  Arden  trees  in  praise  of  his  merry 
Eosalind.  However,  on  this  occasion  no  mishap 
occurs — only,  not  a  fin  moves.  We  pass  along 
down  stream.  The  Narrows  Pool  is  much  more 
easily  fished,  for  here  one  wades  in  a  considerable 
distance,  and  nothing  is  to  be  feared  from  behind. 
Moreover,  the  wind  has  now  entirely  died  away, 
and  the  woods  on  the  opposite  brae  are  darken- 
ing the  water.  Everything  is  favourable,  but 
that  the  surface  is  so  glassily  calm,  and  that 
there  is  little  current  to  take  down  the  fly. 
Nevertheless,  it  is  a  gracious  evening,  so  serene 
and  still  is  it.  Surely  some  unseen  creature, 
over  there  in  the  deeper  runs,  may  be  induced 
to  quit  his  favourite  haunt  and  come  out  for  a 
little  sporting  adventure.  The  Childers  is  such 
a  pretty  thing  to  play  with — blue,  and  gold,  and 
crimson,  and  tinsel — and  life  must  be  rather 
monotonous  by  the  side  of  a  big  brown  stone, 
under  three  or  four  feet  of  water.  Eecollections 


AN  APRIL  DA  Y  ON  THE  OYKEL  191 

of  the  sea  must  stir  in  one's  mind  on  seeing  this 
shrimp-like  thing  jerking  over  one's  nose,  and 
even  if  one  is  not  very  hungry,  why  not  give 
chase  just  for  a  bit  of  a  frolic  ?  But  nothing  of 
the  kind  happens.  Those  long,  dark,  glassy 
swirls  remain  unbroken.  Time  after  time  the 
line  goes  away  across  in  search,  and  time  after 
time  it  is  swung  harmlessly  again  into  the  air. 
Then  the  Brae  Pool  (which  is  the  most  detestable 
place  to  fish  ever  beheld  by  mortal  man)  and 
the  ominously-named  Cemetery  Pool  are  too  far 
away  to  be  included  in  this  evening's  work. 
One  begins  to  think  of  a  return  to  the  lodge 
and  to  dinner,  and  with  no  great  joy. 

"  Better  put  a  few  casts  over  the  Stones  Pool, 
sir,"  suggests  Hugh,  who  is  seated  on  the  bank 
with  his  gun  by  his  side. 

"  But  Mr.  M has  just  been  over  it." 

However,  there  is  this  to  be  said :  my  young 
artist  friend,  though  an  excellent  fisherman,  is 
new  to  the  river,  and  like  most  other  people,  is 
inclined  to  be  careless  of  pools  in  which  he  has 
not  seen  a  fish  captured.  So  I  betake  me  to  the 
Stones  Pool — so  named  from  two  rocks  in  the 
middle  of  the  river — and  begin  perfunctorily  to 
thrash  away,  though  not  with  much  hope.  But 


192  AN  APRIL  DAY  ON  THE  OYKEL 

at  all  events  I  have  an  idea  where  the  fish  lie ; 
and  this  is  my  last  chance  for  the  evening,  so 
that  it  is  worth  while  to  be  cautious.  And  at 
last,  and  all  of  a  sudden,  I  find  my  line  held. 
Now  you  are  aware,  Mr.  Editor,*  of  the  endless 
controversy  as  to  whether  you  should  or  should 
not  strike  a  rising  salmon :  your  own  columns 
have  borne  testimony.  Well,  I  will  simply 
confess  that,  being  a  duffer,  I  never  attempt 
such  a  thing.  I  know  that  I  have  again  and 
again  seen  the  most  expert  fishermen  whip  away 
the  fly  from  the  fish's  mouth,  through  this 
anxiety  to  strike ;  and  I  know  that  the  pro- 
fessional fishermen  on  the  Shannon  almost  allow 
the  salmon  to  eat  the  fly  before  they  check  the 
line — just  as  any  one  who  is  trolling  allows  the 
salmon  to  eat  a  phantom  minnow  :  if  you  snatch 
at  the  rod  the  moment  you  see  the  top  begin  to 
vibrate,  it  is  an  absolute  certainty  that  you  pull 
away  the  minnow  altogether.  Of  course,  when 
you  feel  that  the  salmon  has  taken  the  fly,  you 
hold  your  hand  against  it :  you  don't  lower  the 
top,  and  assist  the  fish  to  shake  the  fly  out  of 
his  mouth,  if  that  remains  possible.  My  sole 
contention  is  that  when  a  salmon  means  busi- 
*  The  Editor  of  the  Fishing  Gazette. 


AN  APRIL  DA  Y  ON  THE  OYKEL  193 

n-ess,  he  will  hook  himself — unless  you  have 
slack  line  in  the  water,  when  he  may  manago 
to  get  rid  of  the  unholy  thing  he  has  unwit- 
tingly pounced  upon,  though  even  that  is  highly 
improbable.  What  luckless  fisherman  who  has 
ever  got  a  fly  into  his  finger  or  his  ear  has 
been  able  to  get  it  out  again  by  shaking  his 
hand  or  his  head  ? 

To  return.  My  Stones  Pool  fish  is  certainly 
hooked ;  but  he  has  not  the  least  intention  of 
making  that  the  end  of  the  transaction.  The 
first  thing  he  does  is  to  throw  himself  clean  out 
of  the  water — a  gleam  of  silver  and  purple  in 
the  warm  evening  light — and  then  when  he 
returns  to  his  proper  element  he  lies  low,  like 
Brer  Eabbit,  and  begins  a  series  of  most  vicious 
tuggings.  Now,  there  is  nothing  I  fear  so 
much  as  a  tugger.  The  fish  may  do  anything 
else  he  pleases — make  long  rushes,  fly  into 
the  air,  lash  the  surface  with  his  tail ;  but 
when  he  begins  to  tug  I  am  filled  with  a 
terrible  suspicion  that  he  has  discovered  on 
some  former  occasion  the  surest  way  of  getting 
the  fly  out  of  his  jaw.  By  this  time  Hugh 
has  whistled  for  the  League  and  his  gaff;  and 
my  young  artist  friend  comes  along  also ; 

o 


I9|  AN  APRIL  DAY  ON  THE  OYKEL 

so  that  there  is  quite  a  gallery  of  spectators 
on  the  bank — "a  perfect  Peeccadeely,"  as  the 
deer-stalker  said.  And  a  very  pretty  per- 
formance it  is,  with  such  a  setting  as  no 
scene-painter  ever  dreamed  of.  For  now  the 
western  clouds  are  all  aflame  with  rose  ;  and  in 
the  clear  violet  or  violet-blue  over  our  heads 
shines  the  young  moon ;  while  on  the  smooth 
waters  of  the  pool  all  these  are  reflected — long 
swathes  of  crimson,  long  swathes  of  blue,  and 
the  golden  crescent  of  the  moon,  trembling  with 
the  oscillations  one  makes  in  backing  from  or 
following  the  salmon. 

"Did  you  ever  in  your  life  see  anything  so 
marvellous  ? "  I  asked  of  my  young  friend. 

"  I  think  you'd  better  attend  to  your  fish,"  he 
replied,  in  his  imperturbable  way. 

But  the  salmon  is  not  demanding  much  atten- 
tion just  at  the  moment.  He  has  flung  himself 
twice  into  the  air ;  and  has  made  a  number  of 
short  rushes — not  any  one  of  them  more  than 
fifteen  or  twenty  yards ;  and  now  he  is  merely 
.amusing  himself  with  boring  into  deep  water, 
with  an  occasional  savage  tug.  He  is  a  biddable 
kind  of  creature  too;  I  find  I  can  lead  him; 
and,  seeing  that,  Hugh  gets  hold  of  the  gaff, 


AN  APRIL  DAY  ON  THE  OYKEL  195 

wades  out  to  the  nearest  of  the  two  rocks, 
and  crouches  there,  intently  peering  over  the 
edge. 

"  Bring  him  up  this  way,  sir  ! " 

Well,  that  is  more  easily  said  than  done,  for 
the  current  between  the  two  stones  is  heavy ; 
but  at  last  I  have  him  guided,  not  only  up  to  the 
two  stones,  but  through  them,  and  momentarily 
I  wait  for  the  dash  of  the  clip.  There  is  no 
sign. 

"  He  is  close  to  you,  Hugh,"  I  shout. 

"  I  cannot  see  him  at  all,  sir,  for  the  light,"  is 
the  answer. 

"  He  is  within  a  foot  of  you — don't  you  see 
the  line  ? " 

Of  course  he  sees  the  line  ;  but  he  is  not  such 
a  fool  as  to  swoop  at  an  unseen  object  on 
chance. 

I  can  see  the  fish  clearly  enough,  from  the 
angle  at  which  I  stand ;  but  the  blaze  of  that 
rose  and  steel-blue  on  the  surface  is  too  much 
for  the  keeper.  My  artist-friend  afterwards 
declared  he  had  never  seen  anything  so  pictur- 
esque :  the  shining  waters,  the  dark  woods  be- 
yond, the  keeper  crouching  on  the  gray  rock, 
the  line  steadily  advancing  until  it  severed  in 

o  2 


196  AN  APRIL  DA  Y  ON  THE  OYKEL 

twain  the  yellow  sickle  of  the  moon.  And  then 
the  fish,  thinking  it  had  had  enough  of  this 
heading  against  the  current,  turns  tail,  and 
takes  me  away  down  with  it  to  the  shallows  and 
shingle  at  the  lower  end  of  the  pool. 

"  I  sympathise  with  that  fish/'  a  young  M.P. 
— now  he  is  an  ex-M.P. — once  said  to  me  on 
this  same  river.  "  He  has  fought  so  splendidly 
for  his  liberty  that  he  deserves  it — and  I  shan't 
be  in  the  least  sorry  if  he  gets  it." 

But  republican  sentiments  of  that  kind  are 
out  of  place  on  the  banks  of  a  salmon  pool,  at 
which  brute,  force  (I  mean  the  casting-lines  got 
at  the  Army  and  Navy  stores)  must  ultimately 
prevail.  My  small  nine-pounder  fights  up  and 
down  and  across,  tugs,  bores,  splashes,  lies 
quiescent,  makes  small  rushes,  allows  himself  to 
be  guided  in  those,  and  then  heads  gallantly  out 
.again,  and  indeed  holds  his  own  so  stoutly  and 
well  that  before  he  is  finally  swooped  up  by  the 
gaff  and  laid  on  the  bank  the  glory  has  quite 
gone  from  the  smooth  sweeps  of  water,  and  dusk 
and  silence  have  fallen  over  the  land.  A  small 
fish,  but  a  brave  fighter.  And  then,  as  we  walk 
away  home  through  the  still  darkness,  we  come 
in  sight  of  more  sharp  lines  and  breadths  of 


AN  APRIL  DAY  ON  THE  OYKEL  197 

crimson — the  red  flames  lighting  up  the  night : 
it  seems  as  though  the  twin  counties  of  Eoss  and 
Sutherland  are  all  on  fire.  Finally,  a  snug  little 
dining-room — some  Highland  mutton — a  long 
smoke  thereafter — and  then  to  bed  with  the 
parting  benediction,  "  Your  turn  to-morrow  1 " 


A   DAY'S    STALKING. 


A    DAY'S    STALKING. 


WHAT  is  the  extreme  amount  of  physical  torture 
and  of  mental  anguish  that  a  human  being  can 
manage  to  endure  in  the  course  of  a  single  day  ? 
There  must,  of  course,  be  many  and  diverse 
answers  to  such  a  question ;  but  here  at  least  is 
one  solution  which  some  folk  may  perhaps  be 
disposed  to  regard  as  being  not  very  wide  of  the 
mark. 

As  the  silver-grey  dawn  begins  to  steal  up 
the  silent  strath — here  in  the  remote  wilds  of 
Ross-shire — you  awaken  with  a  haunting  sense 
of  impending  doom.  What  is  it,  then  ?  Are 
you  going  to  be  hanged  ?  Alas  !  no — for  hang- 
ing would  be  over  at  eight  o'clock  ;  and  there- 
after would  follow  silence  and  peace.  Are  you 
going  to  make  a  first  appearance  on  the  stage  ? 
Well,  that  is  not  very  pleasant ;  especially  when 
youi  have  no  business  there,  and  if  you  are 


202  A  DAY^S  STALKING 

anxious    the    public    should  not  perceive   that 
the  ancient  shepherd  is  wearing  spectacles — for 
ancient   shepherds   were   not   in   the    habit    of 
wearing  spectacles  in  the  days  of  Leontes  and 
Polixenes.     No,  it  is  something  far  worse  than 
that ;   and  now  you  know   you   cannot   escape 
from  it ;  for  certain  soft  footfalls  on  the  grass 
without  inform  you  that  the  ponies  have  already 
arrived.     You  get  up  and  look  from  the  window. 
Yes,  there  they  are  :  Beauly  the  white,  furnished 
.  with  a  deer-saddle  to  bring  home  the  stag  that 
was   shot   yesterday ;    and    Bonar    the    brown, 
having  an  ordinary  saddle  to  carry  you  away 
into  the  wilderness  where  your  sufferings  are  to 
begin.      And   there,  too,   is   Peter,  smoking  a 
solitary  pipe  ;  for  Hugh,  the  head-keeper,  went 
away  long  before  daybreak,  to  spy  out  the  land. 
Breakfast  over,  you  stealthily  leave  the  sleep- 
ing house,  and  presently  the  mute  procession  is 
making   away   down   to   ford   the   river.     And 
perhaps  it  is  to  avoid  the  thought  of  all  that  is 
to  follow  that  the  mind  seeks  refuge  in  a  little 
meditation,   of  the   modern   kind.     Why,  now, 
should  ponies — and  presumably  horses — betray 
such  terror  on  "  winding  "  a  deer  ?     This  Bonar 
that  one  is  riding  is  quite  a  favourite  with  the 


A  DAY^S  STALKING  203 

gillies  because  he  can  be  got  to  approach  a  slain 
stag ;  but  even  he  must  have  his  nose  smeared 
with  the  stag's  blood  first,  to  render  him  callous 
to  the  scent.  The  other  ponies  shiver  with 
fright  the  moment  they  "wind"  a  deer,  and 
swerve  away,  in  terror  so  that  the  foresters  have 
sometimes  a  fine  job  of  it  before  they  can  get 
the  carcass  strapped  on  the  saddle.  Now  how 
should  the  pony  or  the  horse  have  acquired 
any  dread  of  the  most  timorous  and  harmless 
creature  that  exists?  Or  is  it  that  they  have 
inherited  a  fear  of  some  predatory  beast  whose 
scent  resembled  that  of  the  deer  ?  And  what 
horrible  creature  was  it,  then,  that  roamed  the 
ancient  Caledonian  forest,  the  terror  of  the  more 
peaceful  animals  in  the  straths  ?  And  how 
many  ages  ago  ? 

Whirr!  A  grouse-cock  springs  from  a  heathery 
knoll — the  unexpectant  Beauly  jumps  aside  in 
sudden  fright — and  behold !  Peter  is  lying  on 
his  back,  with  one  foot  still  dangling  in  the 
stirrup.  But  Beauly  remains  stock  still ;  the 
discomfited  horseman,  scowling  vengefully,  gets 
up  again,  and  gives  the  poor  brute  a  savage  kick 
ere  he  remounts  into  the  saddle  :  therewithal 
we  get  down  to  the  river,  to  seek  out  the  ford. 


204  A  DAY^S  STALKING 

Now  Bonar  has  the  reputation  of  knowing 
every  ford  in  this  stream  much  more  accurately 
than  any  native  of  the  district ;  and  the  usual 
fashion  is  to  put  him  into  the  water  and  let 
him  find  his  way  across  for  himself.  But  this 
morning — whether  it  is  that  the  recent  spate 
has  altered  the  look  of  the  bank,  or  what  not— 
Bonar  seems  afraid  to  venture.  While  as  yet 
the  water  is  hardly  over  his  knees,  he  regards 
the  swollen  blue-brown  current  with  a  dark 
suspicion,  and  keeps  edging  his  way  further  and 
further  down-stream,  until  one  begins  to^  think 
he  is  making  for  the  Kyle  of  Sutherland.  And 
then  what  command  have  you  over  him,  when 
you  are  holding  your  feet  level  with  his  ears  ? 
But  at  last  he  makes  the  plunge — pauses  to  get 
his  weight  against  the  heavy  stream — cautiously 
and  with  slow  travail  forces  his  way  through — 
and  at  length  we  reach  the  land.  Then  there  is 
a  stiff  climb — with  one's  nose,  now,  instead  of 
one's  feet,  close  to  the  pony's  ears — up  some 
hundred  yards  or  so  of  a  hill-side  about  as  steep 
as  the  side  of  a  house  ;  and  finally  we  gain  the 
highway,  where  both  the  ponies  are  put  into  a 
gentle  trot. 

Then   come   back   those   awful    warnings    of 


A  DA  Y'S  STALKING  205 

Scrope,  of  St.  John,  of  Colquhoun,  and  all  the 
other  authorities.  What  avail  the  bull's-eyes  at 
the  target  on  the  hill-side,  if  a  fit  of  "  buck- 
ague"  is  likely  to  seize  one  at  the  critical 
moment,  or  if  an  excited  forester  should  alarm 
the  stag  before  you  have  got  the  twin  sights 
rightly  on  him  ?  Or,  again,  supposing  you  have 
your  nerves  absolutely  under  control,  what  if 
your  opportunity  should  come  late  in  the  day, 
when  your  teeth  are  chattering  in  your  head 
with  cold,  and  your  frozen  fingers  trembling  ? 
The  look  of  the  morning  around  you  is  not  too 
encouraging.  Snow  lies  thick  on  the  higher 
hills ;  a  wintry  sleet  has  begun  to  iblow  down 
from  the  north  ;  and  if  the  wind  as  yet,  here  in 
the  glens,  is  mild  enough,  you  know  what  it  will 
be  in  the  bleak  altitudes  whither  you  are  bound. 
Moreover,  another  misfortune  now  befalls  the 
luckless  Peter.  Suddenly  Beauly  stops  short 
in  the  middle  of  the  highway,  and  begins  to  lash 
out  with  her  hind  legs.  Peter  descends,  quickly. 
He  makes  a  pretence  of  examining  the  harness, 
but  in  a  hopeless  kind  of  way. 

"  She's  aye  like  that,  wi'  the  deer-saddle,"  says 
he;  and  then  he  adds  with  resignation:  "I'll 
chist  hef  to  wahk."  So  we  set  off  at  foot-pace 


2o6  A  DAY^S  STALKING 

now,  to    get   over   the   long   and   weary  miles 
that  lie  between  us  and  the  haunted  ground. 

Shortly  after  leaving  the  highway  we  have  to 
ford  another  river ;  and  here  an  unexpected 
descent  of  Bonar  into  a  deep  hole  fills  one's 
boots  with  water ;  but  this  is  rather  an  advan- 
tage, for  it  relieves  one  from  all  further 
anxiety  ;  indeed,  as  the  persistent  soaking  of 
the  sleet  is  now  beginning  to  penetrate  even 
Harris  homespun,  there  is  not  much  use  in 
trying  to  keep  one's  feet  dry  when  one's 
shoulders  and  knees  are  wet.  After  crossing 
this  river  and  going  through  some  woods,  we 
get  away  up  into  a  much  wilder  country.-  All 
signs  of  civilisation  gradually  cease  :  what  could 
civilisation  do  with  this  wild  waste  of  bog  and 
rock  ?  As  one  looks  at  the  hopeless  swamps,  at 
the  sterile  slopes  scarred  with  peat-hags,  and  the 
stony  heights  above,  it  is  with  a  petulant  wish 
that  some  half-dozen  of  the  people  who  in  the 
House  of  Commons  express  their  innocent  views 
about  unreclaimed  land  could  have  a  free  gift 
granted  them  of  a  dozen  square  miles  of  this 
country  :  on  the  condition,  however,  that,  after 
a  certain  time,  if  it  was  found  they  could  not 
make  a  living  out  of  it,  they  should  have  ten 


A  DAY'S  STALKING  207 

years  in  Millbank  Penitentiary  for  talking  trash. 
However,  that  is  the  autocratic  way  of  settling 
questions,  and  is  not  in  favour  at  present. 
What  claims  more  immediate  attention  (as  the 
wise  and  faithful  Bonar,  having  left  the  hill- 
track  far  behind,  is  now  choosing  a  path  for 
himself,  clambering  over  boulders  and  stones,  or 
carefully  descending  into  swampy  little  gullies) 
is  this  : — Every  one  knows  that  it  is  no  use 
going  after  the  deer  unless  a  young  lady — the 
prettier  the  better — gives  you  sprne  little  present 
to  take  with  you  for  luck.  Well,  supposing  the 
young  lady,  out  of  her  native  generosity,  has 
sent  you  an  enormous  length  of  rose-red  ribbon  ; 
and  supposing  that,  out  of  further  generosity, 
you  have  shared  this  gift  with  your  companions 
—until,  indeed,  every  noble  sportsman  in  the 
lodge  is  proudly  wearing  a  crimson  neck -tie, 
manipulated  by  his  own  clumsy  fingers ;  sup- 
posing, in  short,  you  have  nothing  but  a  scrap 
left  for  yourself — what  if  that  scrap  should 
prove  a  half-exhausted  talisman,  like  the  one 
described  by  Mr.  Besant  and  Mr.  Pollock  in 
these  pages  ?  *  Or  what — still  more  hideous 
thought ! — if  it  were  to  act  the  wrong  way,  like 
*  Longmans  Magazine. 


2o8  A  DAY'S  STALKING 

the  repellent  pole  of  a  magnet,  or  the  brain  of 
the  young  man  of  whom  Mr.  Longfellow  used  to 
tell  a  tale  ?  *  For,  alas  !  the  mind  instinctively 
turns  to  gloomy  portents  and  forebodings,  in  this 
solitude  of  mists,  and  moorland,  and  sombre, 
voiceless  hills. 

At  length,  after  some  eight  miles  of  lonely 
travel,  we  reach  the  little  ravine  in  which  the 
ponies  are  usually  left ;  but  on  this  occasion 
Beauly  only  is  hobbled  and  turned  loose  ;  the 
faithful  Bonar,  with  the  deer-saddle  transferred 
to  his  back,  is  to  come  on  with  us  to  bring  home 
the  stag  that  was  shot  yesterday.  Meanwhile 
Peter  is  attentively  scanning  the  vast  extent  of 

*  "  Mr.  Longfellow,"  said  the  breathless  and  bewildered 
young  man  (meaning  to  say  quite  the  opposite),  "  I — I— 
am  one  of  the — one  of  the  few  people  who  have  read  your 
Evangdim"  It  is  to  be  suspected,  however,  that  Long- 
fellow used  to  invent  some  of  those  stories.  That  of  the 
Englishman,  who  said,  "  Yery  glad  to  have  seen  you,  Mr. 
Longfellow  ;  you  know  there  arc  no  other  old  ruins  in  your 
country  " — that  legend  sounds  a  little  apocryphal.  There  is 
a  more  natural  touch  about  the  tale  of  the  western  man 
who  came  to  see  Longfellow's  house  which  had  been  General 
Washington's  head-quarters  during  the  war  of  independence  ; 
and  when  he  was  taking  leave  of  the  venerable  poet,  who 
had  most  courteously  shown  him  over  the  place,  shook 
hands  and  said,  "  Well,  good-bye,  General  ;  I  am  proud  to 
see  you  looking  so  hale  at  your  advanced  age." 


A  DAY'S  STALKING  209 

lifeless  country  that  lies  to  the  east  and  west 
and  south  of  us. 

"  I'm  not  seeing  him,"  he  observes  at  length 
—for  apparently  there  is  no  Hugh  anywhere 
within  sight. 

"  Where  shall  we  make  for,  then,  Peter  *?  " 

"  We'll  chist  mek  for  the  top,  sir,"  he 
answers,  looking  across  a  wide  waste  of  moor- 
land to  the  far  crest  of  a  line  of  hill. 

Well,  well.  One  who  has  been  up  to  that 
skyline  before  accepts  his  fate  with  resignation. 
He  knows  how  Peter  will  proceed.  No  avoid- 
ance of  swamps,  no  zigzag  of  steep  places,  no 
temporising  with  the  deep  peat-hags  filled  with 
drifts  of  snow  ;  but  a  bee-line  for  the  summit — 
that  is  Peter's  way.  At  first  of  course,  we  have 
to  descend  into  the  little  ravine  and  cross  the 
burn — wading  through  it,  in  fact,  for  both  of  us 
are  wet  to  the  skin  by  this  time,  though  it  is 
yet  but  about  ten  o'clock.  Then  begins  the 
laborious  toil  across  the  marshy  flats — unre- 
claimed land  with  a  vengeance,  that  allows  you 
to  sink  to  the  knees  at  every  step,  in  a  spongy 
mixture  of  moss  and  water.  Poor  Bonar  has  a 
bad  time  of  it  here ;  sometimes  he  gets  bogged 
altogether,  and  resolutely  stands  still,  hard- 

P 


210  A  DAY'S  STALKING 

breathing ;  whereupon  Peter  goes  in  front  of 
him,  and  with  both  hands  on  the  rein  hauls  at 
his  four-footed  companion's  head  until  Bonar 
makes  another  frantic  effort  to  free  himself. 
By-and-by  we  get  up  to  harder  ground,  cut  in 
every  direction  by  black  peat-hags,  into  which 
one  slips,  and  out  of  which  one  scrambles. 
Here  and  there  in  the  hags  are  drifts  of  snow— 
a  nice  soft  bed  some  eight  or  ten  feet  deep,  if 
one  were  to  stumble  in.  The  higher  one  gets, 
the  keener  blows  the  wind,  the  wilder  come 
those  blasts  of  sleet ;  but  it  is  not  cold  that  is 
the  trouble ;  indeed  one  is  glad  to  perceive  that 
even  Peter,  hardy  mountaineer  as  he  is,  has  his 
face  ablaze,  and  that  more  than  once  he  has  to 
remove  his  cap  and  mop  the  perspiration  off  his 
streaming  hair.  What  is  of  more  consequence 
than  either  cold  or  heat  is  the  fact  that  the 
clouds  are  coming  down,  threatening  to  ex- 
tinguish the  land  altogether.  The  sharp 
white  peaks  of  Suilven  and  Canisp,  and  the 
heavy  shoulders  of  Benmore,  have  long  since 
vanished ;  on  the  hills  quite  close  to  us  the 
mists  are  slowly  descending,  approaching 
stealthily,  imperceptibly ;  an  overshadowing 
gloom  is  gradually  encompassing  the  world. 


A  DAY'S  STALKING  211 

Suddenly,  through  the  bewilderment  of  mist 
and  sleet,  a  figure  appears — a  startling  thing 
in  this  solitary  place  ;  and  here  is  the  broad- 
shouldered  and  long-limbed  Hugh,  himself  hard- 
blown,  for  he  must  have  come  from  a  great 
distance,  and  at  an  extraordinary  pace,  to  over- 
take us.  It  turns  out  that  Master  Peter  has 
mistaken  his  directions  ;  that  Hugh  was  waiting 
for  us  some  miles  below  ;  that  half  his  morning's 
work  has  gone  for  nothing. 

"  Have  you  seen  anything,  Hugh  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir  ;  but  they're  away  down  at  the 
east  end,  this  side  the  Glass-alt  burn."  And 
then  he  turns  with  a  look  of  gentle  reproach  to 
Peter.  "  You've  made  it  an  ahfu'  round  for  us" 
— and  well  does  a  not  uninterested  bystander 
know  what  that  brief  phrase  means. 

On  we  go  again,  clambering  up  this  steep  hill- 
side, making  use  of  the  peat-hags  mostly,  unless 
where  the  snow  renders  them  impassable,  until  a 
further  halt  is  called,  when  Peter  and  the  pony 
are  sent  off  in  a  certain  direction,  towards  the 
slain  stag  that  is  lying  somewhere  concealed. 
Thereafter  Hugh  and  his  remaining  companion, 
each  with  a  rifle  over  his  shoulder,  continue 
this  heart-breaking  climb  until  they  reach  the 

p  2 


212  A  DAY'S  STALKING 

watershed  along  the  crest  of  the  hill,  where 
more  circumspection  becomes  necessary,  for  the 
valley  now  opening  out  below  them  has  to 
be  carefully  scanned.  But  what  is  the  use  ? 
Momentarily  the  clouds  are  stealing  further  and 
further  down  ;  finally  we  are  inclosed  on  all 
hands  by  an  impenetrable  grey  veil — a  girl 
could  fling  a  stone  further  than  we  can  see. 
And  then  one  discovers  by  the  wind  that  Hugh 
is  making  west. 

"  Look  here,  Hugh  ;  are  you  going  to  help 
Peter  with  the  stag  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  How  far  away  is  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  just  a  mile  or  two." 

A  mile  or  two  ! — one  knows  what  that  imports. 

"And  of  course  you  are  coming  back  this 
way." 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir." 

"  All  right.  I'm  going  to  bury  myself  in 
a  peat-hag,  out  of  the  wind,  and  wait  for 
you." 

"  Very  well,  sir.  It'll  be  a  long  time  before  I 
am  back  ;  but  you'll  no  move  out  o'  the  peat- 
hag,  sir,  or  rnebbe  I'll  no  be  finding  you  in  the 
mist 


A  DAY'S  STALKING  213 

A  deep  black  gully  is  chosen  ;  the  rifle  is 
placed  handy,  lest  a  stag  should  come  wandering 
through  the  clouds ;  the  long  figure  of  the 
forester  vanishes  away  like  a  phantom ;  and  a 
solitary  human  creature  is  left  to  pace  up  and 
down  a  few  feet  of  grass  protruding  from  the 
snow,  with  such  reflections  as  are  appropriate  to 
the  occasion.  At  first,  indeed,  there  is  no  great 
physical  discomfort ;  for  although  the  wind 
comes  swirling  round  into  the  peat-hag,  still, 
as  one  is  all  ablaze  with  the  long  fatigues  of  the 
morning,  it  is  rather  pleasant  than  otherwise. 
But  as  that  temporary  heat  cools  down,  and  is 
succeeded  by  the  consciousness  that  you  are  wet 
through — with  perspiration,  or  with  sleet,  or 
with  both  combined — then  these  gusts  begin  to 
strike  chill  indeed.  You  face  them,  and  they 
seem  to  go  right  through  your  chest ;  you  turn 
your  back,  and  they  appear  to  pierce  your  very 
marrow.  Exercise  is  hardly  possible  in  this 
restricted  space ;  besides,  so  long  as  you  stand 
still,  the  water  in  your  boots  remains  in  a  kind 
of  tepid  state  ;  whereas  when  you  move  an  icy 
thrill  strikes  through  your  feet.  As  for  a 
stag  coming  across,  which  would  be  the  more 
frightened — it  or  you  ?  No,  there  is  nothing 


214  A  DAY'S  STALKING 

for  it  but  to  stand  idly  about  on  the  snow — 
which  is  drier  than  the  grass,  if  that  is  any 
advantage — shifting  from  time  to  time  to  expose 
some  other  section  of  your'  fast-freezing  body  to 
the  bitter  blast,  watching  for  the  reappearance 
of  a  spectral  world  through  this  pale  curtain  of 
cloud,  and  wondering  whether  you  would  like  to 
be  buried  in  Kensal  Green  or  on  the  western 
shores  of  the  island  of  Ulva. 

And  then  you  think  of  your  friends,  particu- 
larly those  of  them  who  are  at  this  moment 
wending  their  way  to  Pall  Mall.  There  goes 
one  of  them  up  the  steps  of  his  club.  Of  course 
he  stops  for  his  letters,  for  this  is  the  great 
Literary  Octopus,  whose  far-reaching  tentacles 
suck  sustenance  from  all  parts  of  the  world ; 
and  in  that  bundle  of  envelopes  there  are 
doubtless  contributions  (the  smallest  thankfully 
received)  from  Cathay,  unconsidered  trifles  from 
Tasmania,  post-office  orders  from  Newfoundland. 
Then,  burdened  with  his  various  wealth,  he 
seeks  the  coffee-room.  And  oh,  how  ill  he  is ! — 
a  crumpled  rose-leaf  woke  him  this  morning 
seven  minutes  before  the  proper  time ;  and 
nothing  will  restore  him  now  but  a  luncheon 
that  five  stout  navvies  could  hardly  make  away 


A  DAY'S  STALKING  215 

with.  It  is  a  horrid  sight  to  see  the  curried 
prawns,  the  roast  mutton  and  jelly,  the  stewed 
prunes,  the  cheese  and  celery,  the  French  pears 
and  what  not  disappear  into  that  capacious  maw : 
indeed — why — instinctively  one's  hand  gradually 
sidles  into  a  certain  pocket,  and  behold.!  a  little 
paper  parcel.  It  is  all  wet  now  with  the  sleet ; 
but  that  can't  be  helped.  The  bread  is  moist ; 
the  flakes  of  cold  meat  are  limp  ;  the  salt  has 
melted.  But  it  is  food,  and  it  affords  occupa- 
tion. When  the  drink  question  comes  along, 
that  is  less  easily  settled,  for  there  is  no  water 
within  miles,  even  if  one  dared  venture  out  in 
search  of  it ;  so  there  is  but  the  other  alternative 
—to  half  fill  your  mouth  with  snow,  add  some 
whisky,  and  swallow  the  mixture  :  Deus  sit 
propitius  liuic  potatoril  Of  course  the  inner 
man — the  vagus  nerve,  that  is — howls  aloud! 
"  Here,  what  on  earth  do  you  mean  ?  What  are 
you  doing  ?  What's  this  ?  Do  you  call  this  a 
drink  ? "  No,  I  don't  call  it  a  drink  ;  I  don't  call 
a  decoction  of  minced  North  Pole  and  fire  a 
fluid  of  any  sort  or  kind  ;  but  it  is  the  only 
thing  procurable.  A  great  poet  of  our  own  day, 
who  is  passionately  fond  of  the  sea,  and  is  also 
an  excellent  swimmer,  declares  that,  if  you  are 


216  A  DAY'S  STALKING 

pent  up  in  town  or  country,  yon  have  only  to 
use  samphire  soap  in  order  to  induce  the  impres- 
sion that  you  have  just  come  in  from  breasting 
the  breakers  off  the  rocks  of  Alderney  or  Sark. 
Well,  a  man  may  persuade  himself  of  much ; 
but  if  he  has  just  swallowed  a  combination  of 
snow — of  granulated  ice,  rather — and  Highland 
whisky,  I  will  defy  him  to  believe  that  he  has 
had  a  drink. 

Without  any  warning  of  sound  an  apparition 
starts  out  of  the  clouds ;  this  is  Hugh  come 
back ;  and  right  joyfully  does  the  frozen 
mummy  in  the  peat-hag  receive  the  intelligence 
that  there  is  a  long  tramp  before  him,  for  there 
is  now  a  prospect  of  getting  thawed  into  life 
again.  It  is  true  the  deer  are  not  more  than 
four  or  five  miles  off ;  but  we  have  to  make  a 
long  detour  in  order  to  avoid  giving  them  our 
wind ;  and  our  road  lies  over  the  roughest 
possible  ground.  As  we  get  away  from  those 
chilly  altitudes,  we  leave  the  snow  behind ;  the 
mist  clears  so  that  a  sort  of  phantom  world 
becomes  visible,  but  a  world  without  perspective ; 
everything  is  vertical — the  Glass-alt  burn  appears 
like  a  bit  of  white  ribbon  suspended  from  the 
sky.  We  are  now  considerably  over  our  march ; 


A  DAY'S  STALKING  217 

but  as  two  friends  of  ours  are  in  temporary 
occupation  of  the  neighbouring  forest,  that  does 
not  greatly  matter.  On  and  on  we  toil  until  we 
are  almost  down  into  the  valley  ;  indeed,  at  one 
point,  a  chance  slip  comes  near  to  bringing  the 
stalk  and  the  career  of  the  present  writer  alike 
to  a  sudden  end,  for  he  goes  softly  gliding  down 
a  slope  of  peat,  and  is  just  about  being  hurled 
into  the  ravine  below  when  his  feet  happen  to 
catch  on  a  stump  of  a  birch- tree,  and  he  is 
enabled  slowly  to  clamber  up  again.  By  this 
time  Hugh  is  a  long  way  ahead,  making  straight 
for  the  promised  land. 

But  when  at  length  he  gets  near  to  the 
neighbourhood  where  he  saw  the  deer  in  the 
morning,  he  begins  to  walk  more  cautiously — 
then  stealthily — sometimes  stooping,  and  always 
anxiously  scanning  every  distant  knoll  and 
gully.  All  at  once  he  drops  down  on  the 
ground,  prone,  and  after  a  minute's  quiet 
proceeds  to  get  out  his  telescope  and  push  it 
through  the  grass  and  heather  in  front  of  his 
nose.  Then  he  turns  round  and  crawls  back 
for  some  distance  before  he  thinks  it  safe  to 
get  up  ,•  and  when  he  speaks  he  speaks  in  awful 
whispers. 


2i8  A  DAY'S  STALKING 

"  They're  feeding  again/'  he  says,  "  but 
they've  moved  up  wind.  We'll  have  to  go  aweh 
back." 

Away  back  ?  Well,  well,  it  is  all  in  the  day's 
work  ;  one  shoulders  the  rifle  again,  and  resumes 
the  weary  trudge  over  this  long  heather  and  up 
and  down  and  over  those  interminable  peat- 
hags.  It  is  pitiful  to  see  our  own  tracks  in  the 
black  soft  soil,  and  to  know  that  all  this  labour 
has  been  wasted.  The  rifle  gets  to  be  abnor- 
mally heavy.  Crouching  was  never  the  natural 
gait  of  man.  What  happens  when  the  lungs 
burst  ? 

By-and-by  after  a  long  circuit  the  crouching 
becomes  lower  and  lower,  until  finally  Hugh  goes 
down  on  his  face  and  begins  to  get  forward  as 
though  he  were  slowly  swimming.  I  have  to  do 
the  like  ;  only  that  whereas  Hugh  can  safely 
push  along  his  rifle  parallel  with  himself,  I  have 
(for  fear  of  accident)  to  shift  mine  transversely, 
half  a  foot  at  a  time,  which  is  a  most  hampered 
method  of  progression.  Moreover,  it  is  hard 
that  when  once  the  water  that  has  soaked 
through  one's  clothes  has  been  comfortably 
warmed  up  by  all  the  previous  toil,  it  should 
now  be  chilled,  or  displaced,  by  new  water  from 


A  DAY'S  STALKING  219 

the  outside.  Every  movement  forward  sends  a 
fresh  ice-current  up  to  the  elbows,  and  from 
the  knees  down  to  the  boots.  One's  face  and 
knuckles  are  torn  by  the  twigs  of  the  heather  ; 
but  that  is  less  of  a  consideration  than  the  fact 
that  the  hand  that  holds  the  rifle  is  deadly  cold 
and  stiff.  Hugh  swims  more  cautiously  now— 
inch  by  inch  he  gets  along  :  then  he  stops  short, 
to  allow  me  to  crawl  up  to  his  side.  The  rifles 
are  stealthily  taken  out  of  their  waterproof  cases, 
and  put  on  full  cock. 

"  I  can  only  see  two  hinds,"  he  says  in  a 
whisper,  "  but  the  others  are  no  far  off.  There's 
five  hinds  and  a  stag." 

Does  this  right  hand  tremble  ?  Not  a  bit. 
Nerves? — like  a  rock.  You  only  clinch  your 
teeth  a  little. 

All  of  a  sudden  a  startling  vision  presents  it- 
self :  there  are  two  living  creatures — two  beautiful 
animals,  of  a  warm  dun  colour — quietly  trotting 
along  the  top  of  a  distant  knoll,  if  that  can  be 
called  a  trot  which  is  rather  a  light  springing 
over  the  tall  heather.  Portentously  large  they 
look  after  our  long  wandering  through  an  empty 
world — a  bewilderment,  too,  for  in  one  brief 
second  you  have  to  ask  and  answer  yourself  half 


220  A  DAY'S  STALKING 

a  dozen  questions.  Is  it  worth  while  trying  for 
one  of  these  hinds?  How  many  yards  off? 
Better  wait  for  a  chance  at  the  stag  ?  Will  they 
carry  the  alarm  ?  Is  this  all  that  we  are  to  see 
of  the  deer  ? 

"Will  ye  take  the  shot,  sir? — they're  about 
three  hundred  yards,"  says  Hugh,  not  very 
eagerly,  as  the  light-limbed,  slim-necked  creatures 
keep  on  their  way,  hardly  seeming  to  touch  the 

earth. 

"  No ;  a  stag  or  nothing.     But  what  started 

fchem  ?  " 

"  They've  got  suspicious  about  something,"  is 
Hugh's  whispered  answer,  as  he  cautiously  rises 
to  his  feet,  and  looks  across  to  the  little  plateau 
where  he  had  last  seen  the  deer  feeding. 

"  Will  they  frighten  the  others  away  ?  "  is  the 
next  question. 

"  Maybe  they'll  no  go  far.  We'll  just  have  to 
search  the  small  corries." 

Searching  the  small  corries  sounds  an  inno- 
cent kind  of  thing ;  but  it  turns  out  to  be  a 
terrible  business ;  for  it  is  nearly  all  either 
crouching  or  crawling,  and  it  is  protracted  until 
the  misery  of  it  becomes  almost  unendurable. 
Moreover,  it  is  raining  persistently — not  that 


A  DAY'S  STALKING  221 

that  can  make  you  any  wetter  than  you  are, 
but  that,  if  you  are  wearing  spectacles,  the  land- 
scape becomes  transformed  into  a  sort  of 
nebulous  phantasmagoria  ;  and  what  are  your 
chances  of  getting  the  stag  even  if  you  were  to 
find  him  ?  No ;  you  begin  to  think  it  is  a 
shame  to  shoot  such  beautiful  creatures.  Why 
should  they  not  be  left  to  the  freedom  of  their 
native  wilds,  to  the  fierce  joy  of  the  tourna- 
ments in  mid-October,  to  the  milder  graces  of 
maternity  in  the  spring  ?  Are  not  all  of  us  ferce 
naturce  in  a  sense  ? — is  there  not  a  certain  kin- 
ship ? — 

Down  drops  Hugh  on  the  heather,  as  if 
he  had  been  shot  through  the  heart.  When 
one  slowly  and  arduously  creeps  up  to  him, 
it  is  to  find  that  he  is  peering  into  a  sort 
of  hollow  surrounded  by  low  knolls.  With 
his  hand  he  beckons  his  unfortunate  pupil  to 
come  up. 

"  The  stag  and  four  of  the  hinds  are  there," 
he  says,  apparently  talking  into  the  ground. 

A  little  further  crawling,  the  raising  of  your 
head  an  inch,  and  you  see  a  strange  thing 
amazingly  near  you.  It  is  the  back  of  a  deer, 
of  a  vivid  fawn  colour,  and  the  animal  is  quietly 


222  A  DAY'S  STALKING 

feeding  not  fifty  yards  off.  The  agonised  ex- 
citement of  such  a  moment !  The .  head  of  the 
deer  being  out  of  sight,  you  cannot  tell  whether 
this  is  the  stag  or  only  one  of  the  hinds  ;  if  it 
is  one  of  the  hinds,  how  are  you  to  get  at  the 
stag  without  alarming  his  companion  ? 

"  Hugh,  is  that  the  stag  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  sir,"  is  the  muttered  reply. 

Perhaps  the  slight  hissing  sound  has  reached 
him.  He  raises  his  head  slightly — then  he 
throws  it  right  up  and  shows  his  branching 
antlers — a  noble  sight !  The  rifle  is  quickly 
pushed  through  the  heather — how  long  will  the 
stag  remain  motionless  ?  Surely  he  has  caught 
sight  of  Hugh  ? 

"  Fire,  sir,  fire ;  he'll  be  away  ! "  calls  out 
Hugh,  oblivious  of  consequences  ;  and  how  in 
your  desperation  can  you  tell  him  to  be  quiet  ? 
No,  there  is  nothing  for  it  now  but  to  take 
a  snap-shot — well  forward — with  such  steady- 
ing of  the  two  sights  as  is  possible  in  this 
wild  second — the  haphazard  shot  is  fired — 
the  stag  bounds  forward  just  an  instant  too 
late — Hugh  springs  to  his  feet,  makes  for 
the  top  of  the  knoll,  and  has  a  right  and  left 
at  him  as  he  flies  over  the  crest — he  loads  again 


A  DAY'S  STALKING  223 

and  tries  to  pick  off  a  hind — I  take  a  despair- 
ing farewell  shot  at  another  hind  crossing  the 
skyline  some  four  hundred  yards  away — and 
then,  after  this  staccato  fusillade,  there  is  an 
awful  silence. 

"  Nothing  touched,  Hugh  ?" 

"Nothing,  sir." 

"  How  did  I  come  to  miss  that  stag  ?  " 

"  You  fired  just  a  foot  in  front  of  his  shoulder, 
sir,"  Hugh  says  hopelessly. 

"  When  he  wasn't  moving,  then  ?  Why,  if  I 
had  taken  my  own  time  I  could  have  had  a 
standing  shot ! " 

"  Ay,  mebbe  that,  sir ;  but  I  thought  he  was 
off;  as  soon  as  he  saw  us  I  made  sure  he  was 
off." 

There  is  further  silence.  The  whisky-flask  is 
not  produced.  Hugh  keeps  gazing  at  the  skyline 
as  if  he  expected  some  of  those  deer  to  come  back. 
And  then,  with  thoughts  too  deep  for  words,  we 
set  out  on  our  way  home. 

The  dusk  of  the  afternoon  comes  down  as  we 
toil  over  those  weary  miles  of  moorland  that  lie 
between  us  and  the  hobbled  pony.  It  is  a  very 
moist  moorland.  Deep  hidden  under  the  spongy 
peat  and  verdant  moss  lie  the  stumps  of  trees 


224  A  DAY^S  STALKING 

which  may  have  been  growing  when  the  "  forests  " 
of  Scotland  were  forests  in  reality,  not  bare 
wastes  ;  and  these  unseen  stumps  are  slippery 
with  the  wet ;  so  that  when  the  foot  happens  to 
strike  on  them  a  catastrophe  is  almost  inevitable. 
Even  the  experienced  Hugh  has  had  one  bad  fall ; 
thereafter  he  limps  for  half  an  hour.  His  sombre 
companion  goes  head  over  heels  again  and  again, 
with  no  worse  result,  however,  than  a  strained 
wrist.  The  rain  pours.  We  come  to  the  bed  of 
a  stream,  and  wade  along  the  shallows  as  the 
easiest  path.  Eventually  we  reach  the  Place  of 
the  Hobbling  of  the  Ponies,  as  it  is  doubtless 
called  in  the  Gaelic. 

And  now  for  those  who  want  to  be  taught 
the  miseries  of  deer-stalking,  here  beginneth  the 
fifteenth  lesson.  Beauly  entirely  refuses  to  be 
caught,  and  as  she  is  hobbled  by  the  fore  feet 
only  she  can  show  a  fine  pair  of  hind  heels  when- 
ever anyone  tries  to  get  near  her.  Coaxing  is 
no  use ;  language  of  another  kind  is  lost  upon 
her.  Imaginary  hay  she  knows  all  about ;  sud- 
den rushes  she  defeats.  Hugh,  with  the  saddle 
upon  his  shoulder,  and  myself,  carrying  the  two 
heavy  rifles,  pursue  this  vagrant  creature  mile 
after  mile,  trying  to  hem  her  in  between  us,  and 


A  DA  Y*S  STALKING  225 

in  vain.  It  is  ludicrous — quite  amusing,  indeed 
— but  it  is  not  getting  home.  At*  length,  after 
about  three  miles  of  this  merry  chase,  she  allows 
one  of  us  to  get  pretty  well  close  to  her  ;  there 
is  a  grab  at  her  mane — and  she  stands.  She  is 
saddled ;  the  solitary  horseman  rests  one  of  the 
rifles  transversely  on  her  neck,  and  the  melan- 
choly procession,  as  the  evening  closes  down,  sets 
out  for  the  lodge  in  the  distant  strath. 

I  am  not  the  first,  to  use  the  cruel  phrase 
of  Mephistopheles.  I  have  heard  before,  from 
several  mouths,  of  that  gloomy  ride  home,  of  the 
torturing  conscience,  of  the  agonising  questions, 
of  the  remorseful  guesses  at  what  might  have 
been.  If  the  stag  had  but  sprung  forward  when 
you  expected  ?  If  you  had  paid  no  heed  to 
Hugh's  admonition,  but  steadily  drawn  the  bead 
on  the  standing  deer  ?  If  you  had  sprung  to 
your  feet,  and  made  sure  of  the  way  he  was  going 
to  run,  so  as  to  have  the  second  barrel  ?  What 
a  size  he  was,  too  ! — and  so  near  ! — broadside  on  ! 
— a  baby's  shot ! — if  only  you  had  known  he  was 
going  to  stand  still !  And  what  about  the  talis- 
man ?  Of  course  the  talisman  must  have  lost  its 
virtue.  Those  fellows  with  the  rose-red  ties  used 
up  all  the  luck.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  one  of  them 


226  A  DAY'S  STALKING 

shot  three  stags  in  one  day,  each  an  honest  stalk  ; 
another  got  two  stags,  right  and  left,  in  driving 
the  woods ;  while  a  beardless  boy  of  a  barrister 
secured  a  very  passable  six-pointer  the  very  first 
day  he  went  out.  Let  no  man  be  generous  until 
he  has  been  just.  And  then  the  report  to  the 
young  lady  herself  ?  What  explanation  is  to  be 
made  ? 

Night  falls  ;  and  still  there  is  this  monotonous 
jog-jog  along  the  undulating  but  ever  descending 
mountain-track. 

"  How  about  the  fords,  Hugh  ? 

"  They'll  be  bad  to-night,  sir  ;  the  river  has 
risen  since  the  morning." 

"Couldn't  you  leave  the  pony  at  the  shepherd's, 
and  get  home  by  the  Bad  Step  ?  " 

"  I  would  rather  take  her  back,  sir." 

"  Very  well,  then,  you'll  have  to  try  the  fords 
yourself :  I'm  not  going  over  there  in  the  dark, 
with  the  river  in  spate." 

"  Oh,  no,  sir  ;  and  if  the  shepherd's  at  home 
he'll  carry  your  rifle  up  the  Bad  Step,  and  it 
will  be  the  easier  for  you  to  climb." 

More  agonising  reflections ;  more  miles  of 
slow  trudging  through  this  silent  world — silent 
save  for  the  streams  murmuring  down  from  the 


A  DAY'S  STALKING  227 

hills ;  and  at  last  we  manage  to  make  our  way 
through  a  sheepfold  and  pull  up  in  front  of 
the  shepherd's  house.  The  tall  shepherd  comes 
out ;  Beauly  is  handed  over  to  the  care  of  Hugh, 
who  forthwith  mounts  and  departs  for  the  ford  ; 
my  courteous  friend  not  only  takes  my  rifle,  but 
lends  me  his  staff;  and  together  we  set  out, 
he  leading  the  way.  At  first  our  route  takes  us 
through  some  sombre  woods,  in  which  it  is  al- 
most impossible  for  me  to  descry  my  guide  ;  but 
when  we  reach  the  Bad  Step — which  is  a  zigzag 
path  cut  on  the  face  of  a  perpendicular  cliff 
some  three  or  four  hundred  feet  in  height  and 
immediately  over  the  river — we  emerge  into  the 
open  again ;  and  there  is  the  faintest  glimmer 
of  light  in  the  north  that  enables  us  just  to 
make  out  the  slippery  track.  It  is  a  tedious 
and  breathless  climb  after  so  long  a  day  ;  but  at 
last  it  is  achieved ;  nor  even  here  does  the  shep- 
herd's kindness  cease,  for  he  insists  on  carrying 
the  rifle  down  into  the  valley ;  and  then  good- 
night is  said,  with  many  thanks,  and  I  am  left 
tc  find  my  way  home  alone. 

There  are  still  a  couple  of  miles  between  the 
Bad  Step  and  the  lodge ;  but  it  is  not  the 
distance,  nor  is  it  the  neighbourhood  of  that 


228  A  DAY>S  STALKING 

roaring  river,  nor  is  it  the  deep  pitfalls  among 
the  heather,  nor  is  it  your  soaked  clothes  and 
aching  limbs  that  are  your  chief  concern. 
Perhaps  they  are  of  no  concern.  "  I'm  sick  of 
all  beneath  the  skies,"  was  the  wail  of  the 
luckless  lover  of  Helen  of  Kirkconnell.  One 
blunders  along  through  this  black  night  in  a 
kind  of  desperate  carelessness,  guided  only  by 
the  sound  of  the  adjacent  torrent,  which  gives 
some  hint  of  the  proper  direction.  Of  course 
you  keep  well  aside  from  the  Eock  Pool — if  you 
stumbled  in  there,  there  would  be  a  swift  end  to 
all  regrets  and  sorrows.  You  get  away  down 
the  strath ;  you  make  for  what  you  imagine  to 
be  the  whereabouts  of  the  lodge ;  and  at  last 
you  hear  a  low  whistle  :  that  is  Hugh,  who  has 
crossed  both  the  fords  and  got  home.  The  next 
moment,  in  the  pitch  darkness,  you  come  into 
violent  collision  with  some  hard  but  not  un- 
yielding object :  this  is  Beauly,  patiently  stand- 
ing at  the  gate.  And  you  know  that  with- ' 
in  there  are  a  number  of  people,  all  so  sleek, 
and  dry,  and  warm,  and  comfortable — they  a^e 
doubtless  reading  in  front  of  the  big  peat-fire, 
and  thinking  of  nothing  but  the  now  forth- 
coming dinner — and  you  are  aware  that  the 


A  DAY'S  STALKING.  229 

moment  you  present  yourself  at  the  door,  there 
will  be  a  universal  call :  "  Well,  what  have  you 
done  ? " 

"  I  suffer,"  Carlyle  said  on  one  occasion  to  the 
present  writer,  "  a  great  deal  of  pheesical  meesery, 
and  also  of  mental  gloom." 

But  the  poor  old  man  had  not  plumbed  the 
deepest  deeps.  He  had  never  gone  for  a  long 
and  wet  day's  deer-stalking — and  missed. 


LONDON: 
PRINTED  BY   WILLIAM  CLOWES   AND  SONS,   LIMITED, 

STAMFORD  STREET   AND  CHARING   CROSS. 


The  following  is  a  compitte  list  of  the  new  Half -Crown  Edition 
of  Mr.  BLACK'S  Novels,  and  the  probable  order  of  their 
monthly  issue  beginning  January  1892. 

Sunrise.     (Ready.) 
The  Beautiful  Wretch. 

(Beady.) 

Shandon  Bells.    (Ready.) 
Adventures  in  Thule.  (Ready) 
Yolande.     (Ready.) 
Judith  Shakespeare.  (Ready) 
The  Wise  Women  of  Inverness. 

(Ready.) 
White  Heather. 
Sabina  Zembra. 
The  Strange  Adventures  of  a 

House  Boat. 
In  Far  Lochaber. 
The  Penance  of  John  Logan. 
Prince  Fortunatus. 


A  Daughter  of  Heth.  (Ready.) 
The  Strange  Adventures  of  a 

Phaeton.     (Heady.) 
A  Princess  of  Thule.    (Ready.) 
In  Silk  Attire.    '(Ready.) 
Kilmeny.     (Ready.) 
Madcap  Violet.     (Ready.) 
Three  Feathers.     (Ready.) 
The  Maid  of  Xilleena.  (Ready.) 
Green  Pastures  and  Piccadilly. 

(Ready.) 

Macleod  of  Dare.    (Ready.) 
Lady  Silverdale's  Sweetheart. 

(Ready.) 
White  Wings.    (Ready.) 


NKW  YORK:   HARPER  AND  BROTHERS,  FRANKLIN  SQUARE. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


